Hell Is My Mouth
I am UP. What else is NEW in my post-wisdom-tooth life?
There has been some progress. I can open my mouth all the way wide again. I managed to scrape together approximately one more hour of sleep than I've been getting for the past several nights.
But I still can't liiiiiiiiiive, if living is without druuuuuuuugs.
Last night I decided that something must be wrong, so I put in a call to the doctor, who is supposed to call me this morning. Hopefully they can see me today.
Then I called my sister, to give her a heads-up about driving me to my appointment, since I am really not quite alert enough to be driving. My mother answered the phone -- my sister and brother-in-law had gone out, so my mom was Squidge-sitting.
My mother proceeded to yell at me for not feeling better yet, like it was my own damn fault. Thanks, Mom, for being such a towering smushy pillar of comfort. Oh yeah, and thanks for the pot of stupid ugly CABBAGE WATER.
So now I am uppidge. Again. Still. More. Even. I did some dishes. Chrissy wandered into the kitchen trying to be all Mister Casual: "Oh, hey. Hi, Mommy. You couldn't sleep either, huh? Well, I guess since we're both up, you could feed me. I mean, because we're both up, you know? We're both, you know...up."
I didn't fall for that.
Last night Charles went out and bought me a BUNCH of sick-supplies: frozen yogurt, a thermometer, a jumbo bottle of Tylenol, orange juice and who-all knows what else. The only thing I've managed to use so far is the thermometer. I don't have a fever, which is good. I'm hoping nothing is infected.
Charles looked especially adorable yesterday. Like if Ric Ocasek was a college professor.
I have some Sugar Ray song in my head: "Answer the phone/I know that you're home/I wanna get you alone/And do it again, do it again."
Somebody help me!
There has been some progress. I can open my mouth all the way wide again. I managed to scrape together approximately one more hour of sleep than I've been getting for the past several nights.
But I still can't liiiiiiiiiive, if living is without druuuuuuuugs.
Last night I decided that something must be wrong, so I put in a call to the doctor, who is supposed to call me this morning. Hopefully they can see me today.
Then I called my sister, to give her a heads-up about driving me to my appointment, since I am really not quite alert enough to be driving. My mother answered the phone -- my sister and brother-in-law had gone out, so my mom was Squidge-sitting.
My mother proceeded to yell at me for not feeling better yet, like it was my own damn fault. Thanks, Mom, for being such a towering smushy pillar of comfort. Oh yeah, and thanks for the pot of stupid ugly CABBAGE WATER.
So now I am uppidge. Again. Still. More. Even. I did some dishes. Chrissy wandered into the kitchen trying to be all Mister Casual: "Oh, hey. Hi, Mommy. You couldn't sleep either, huh? Well, I guess since we're both up, you could feed me. I mean, because we're both up, you know? We're both, you know...up."
I didn't fall for that.
Last night Charles went out and bought me a BUNCH of sick-supplies: frozen yogurt, a thermometer, a jumbo bottle of Tylenol, orange juice and who-all knows what else. The only thing I've managed to use so far is the thermometer. I don't have a fever, which is good. I'm hoping nothing is infected.
Charles looked especially adorable yesterday. Like if Ric Ocasek was a college professor.
I have some Sugar Ray song in my head: "Answer the phone/I know that you're home/I wanna get you alone/And do it again, do it again."
Somebody help me!