Sigh.

It’s my own stupid fault I know (see previous post for whines and whinges about all the sugary shite I’ve ploughed into my poor gob over the years…). But dear lord, what a horrible, horrible procedure to have done with only local anesthetic!

I was fully prepared for the fact that it wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience. Of course it wasnt. No experience involving jamming needles into your gums, then stuffing scalpels down the sides of your tooth, before reaching in with a pair of heavy duty pliers, leaning knees on the chair for better purchase and pulling as hard as physically possible was ever going to be a walk in the park. But dear god (lip quivering in pathetic indignation here) it was really very very painful! I felt somehow violated as my tooth was ripped out of my protesting gum. And to see it, lying on the table afterwards, looking all sad and naked (and distinctly gory) was just doubly upsetting. It’s probably been dumped unceremoniously in a bin somewhere by now. Unless the stories were all true and the tooth fairy seized it. She probably has an ongoing standing order with the dentist I should think, regular deliveries and all. Quality probably ain’t that great though.

Back at home (after staggering home, completely unaware that OH had driven down to pick me up) it was business as usual, until I virtually passed out and had to sit in a fuzzy heap in the kitchen with a piece of kitchen roll stuffed in my mouth to stem the flow. Then OH sternly told me to bugger off and sit in the lounge, where I collapsed in a self piteous heap, while DB1 clambered on my tummy and DB2, cruising along the sofa next to me, tried to eat my watch. Then the remote control. He’s not too discriminating what goes in his mouth really.

Poor OH seems now ready to collapse himself, after an afternoon spent chasing after DB2 as he tries to a) climb into the dishwasher/ oven and b)tries to pull open all the drawers in the filing cabinet and eat the cheque books; not to mention an afternoon of DB1 repeatedly hitting his head on things (seriously, he has been so accident prone recently!) and then wailing for a somewhat disproportionately long time about it afterwards.

Early bed for both of us I think. Self piteous pooching bottom lips all round. I can’t even have a glass of wine. Not allowed. That really does suck balls.

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