beware the savage jaw
Gaaah. I woke up at 4am this morning with my right calf muscle suddenly, horribly and agonisingly in cramp, causing me to catapult myself and the cat simultaneously to opposite corners of the room where we both cowered, whimpering. This is, of course, no more than my just deserts, given that I haven't been to gym for two weeks (variously because of SCA events, sinus infections and a more than usually hyperactive social life).
It may also have a lot to do with the dreaded visit to the dental hygienist on Tuesday: I hate having small tooth-picking bird substitutes poking around inside my mouth with pointy sticks, and get inordinately tense. The nice lady was very sweet about my flinches, winces and knotted muscles, eventually gently pointing out that my heels were levitating an inch off the chair and I might want to try to relax a bit. She was also surprisingly understanding about the fact that it took four tries to get an X-ray, since in addition to the hypersensitive gums I have an extremely ticklish palate and will, at the slightest provocation, gag on dentists. I think of it as my tiny, feeble revenge. Particularly since she subjected me to a major and entirely successful guilt trip about flossing. Gah. Flossing is, to me, the nub, nadir and zenith of the consumerist mental trap.
At any rate, I'm very short on sleep, particularly given the late night from observing demon barbers in their natural habitat. I really enjoyed Sweeney Todd, but feel the need to cogitate on it a bit before I write about it, it's doing some complex things that require brooding over, possibly in a melancholy way while wearing too much eye makeup and fondling a razor.
Now off to finish annotating a Tolkien thesis, update all my lecture handouts on internet eroticism, and angst about how few of the books I've managed to read before book club this evening. Oh, and move office. Sigh.
It may also have a lot to do with the dreaded visit to the dental hygienist on Tuesday: I hate having small tooth-picking bird substitutes poking around inside my mouth with pointy sticks, and get inordinately tense. The nice lady was very sweet about my flinches, winces and knotted muscles, eventually gently pointing out that my heels were levitating an inch off the chair and I might want to try to relax a bit. She was also surprisingly understanding about the fact that it took four tries to get an X-ray, since in addition to the hypersensitive gums I have an extremely ticklish palate and will, at the slightest provocation, gag on dentists. I think of it as my tiny, feeble revenge. Particularly since she subjected me to a major and entirely successful guilt trip about flossing. Gah. Flossing is, to me, the nub, nadir and zenith of the consumerist mental trap.
At any rate, I'm very short on sleep, particularly given the late night from observing demon barbers in their natural habitat. I really enjoyed Sweeney Todd, but feel the need to cogitate on it a bit before I write about it, it's doing some complex things that require brooding over, possibly in a melancholy way while wearing too much eye makeup and fondling a razor.
Now off to finish annotating a Tolkien thesis, update all my lecture handouts on internet eroticism, and angst about how few of the books I've managed to read before book club this evening. Oh, and move office. Sigh.