There were two nice hours last night. They were when I discovered that I could block the pain of my wisdom tooth with cheap whisky and fags.
Unfortunately, after two hours I was pissed, so fell into bed, praying for oblivion.
Instead my tooth woke me up a couple of hours later. And then, three hours after that, it woke me again.
So. It's 4am. I'm staring miserably at my pale, pus-and-blood-streaked reflection in the mirror. And I'm thinking "This can't get worse."
Then my boiler explodes and floods the flat.
6 comments:
I can see your problem - Gaydar doesn't let you search for dentist and plumber couples looking for a bit of group action.
Ha! Brilliant!
Although, seriously, I am *so* off the sex at the moment. Frankly, I can't stand being near my mouth, so I don't see why anyone else should be,
Plus I'm chugging back the clove oil, so smell of mulled wine and mince pies. Which is festive but not erotic.
Just go and have the wretched things taken out - it hurts like crap but only for a few days, and yes you do look like a hamster. But then it's over and you get more defined cheekbones as part of the bargain.
Sorry about the flood!
defined cheekbones, eh? tempting.
at the moment i have one rakishly sharp cheekbone. and one that's smuggling nuts for winter.
well I'm being a bit misleading as I have no wisdom teeth and no cheekbones either - but it's supposed to work for people who are thinner than me!
so long as the pain stops, i don't care how. it's been a solid week of sitting up at 4am, reading Margery Allingham, knocking back whisky and praying for one of the cocktail of painkillers to kick in. just a little.
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