The tiny straw is making me hate you
It has begun. I had a consultation with the oral surgeon today, and I have an appointment to be knocked unconscious and have my jaw broken in three weeks. Okay, they’re not breaking my jaw. They’re just pulling a tooth. Still. It’s going to suck. This was actually a second consultation for the same thing. I was there about a year and a half ago, planning the same extraction (which totally sounds like we’re going to get our troops out from behind enemy lines, but behind enemy lines is my #2 molar), and they wanted to know why I’m back now. What changed? Insurance. We didn’t have dental insurance the first time around, then we were unemployed, then we were employed, but too lazy to go to the dentist, and that’s more information than the assistant to the oral surgeon really needs.
Have you tried pretzel m&ms? They’re really good.
I went to a weird place just now, on one of those thought tangents that’s so convoluted I can’t trace it back, and now I have “paranoia, they destroy ya” looping through my brain. Not what I want to fall asleep to.