I’m having a root canal today at 9. Yuck. I had one last year and it didn’t hurt (except for the Novocaine) but I still don’t want to have another. They cost a lot of money and they are boring. And worse of all, I have to lay there for almost an hour and I can’t talk. What are they trying to do to me? That’s like torture.
I remember last time how often I had a pithy or witty thing to say but all I could get out was a muffled “ah dah do eh lah” which I believe was “That’s what she said.” I’m thinking of starting a new career as a dental interpreter. I would sit in the room and listen to what the patient is saying and tell the dentist. Of course I would have to clean it up a little I suppose.
On a different topic, my friend (and fashionista) Peter, said that he hated the shirt I was wearing in yesterday’s picture — loved the blog and picture but hated the shirt. I like the shirt because, in the dead of winter, it’s bright and cheery and yet it’s still warm. Any other opinions?
Well off to the dentist I go. Eh ee uhg. (Interpreted = wish me luck).