The Day After

Oh, freaking hell, it feels like someone punched me in the face. I'll never understand why every dentist I've come in contact with seems to think extractions have the worst follow-up pain. No, no, it's root canals and everything involving them. The gums are burning and itching from where I'm pretty sure they used a screwdriver to fit my temporary crowns and it's incredibly hard to focus on anything else. And nothing for the pain. I had to ask my sister for one of the pills they gave her for her extraction (which, by the way, isn't hurting her anymore). And why do I, a person with a great fear of dentistry, get the pleasure of the new doctor, the new nurse? The last thing I want is someone working on my teeth who's unsure of themselves. Actually, I take that back. The last thing I would want would be an unsure gynecologist (which totally happened to me at the free clinic once. It was terrifying).

But enough ranting and raving about things that are over and done with.
St. Patrick's Day was yesterday and I had barely a chance to think about it. After the tooth abuse I had to spend the evening at my night job, where we were very slow for most of the evening until the drunk stragglers wandered over from wherever they were getting sloshed at beforehand. I finally got out around 10:50 or so, leaving me enough time to race to the gas station to buy some beer and then making it home with an hour left to celebrate. Celebrate is probably a pretty strong word, considering it was just Allen and I each drinking a beer while watching Futurama episodes.

Tonight promises to be far more amazing. Not only do I have hours to spend with my leather but it's Tuesday which mean it's Movie Night! I have no idea what we'll be watching but I guarantee it'll be great. Hooray for Tuesdays!! (Can I get a hoo-hah?)