September the 17th...

So, September the 17th is marked in my diary as a day that should be put in a box and buried six feet under.

Under the guise of bravery I went to work today, after having some sad news last night. For very personal reasons I won't go into that here...don't curse me, but sometimes there are some things that really can not be blogged about.

However, life does indeed go on and it's pretty much time that I pulled myself together and got on with living it; with or without the presence of someone else. Sometimes we just have to accept that we have no control of our destination or what happens on the journey. Missing someone is painful though, and I am really quite tired having spent time missing the hobbits, and now missing other people who have become very much an important part of my life.

So, I wasn't really expecting today to be much cop after all...and although there were bursts of sunshine throughout the day, most of the time it rained...on me.

Added to my sunny misdemeanour was a broken shoe that made me walk like I had clown shoes most of the day, and a bad tooth.

In fact I got so used to picking my foot up deliberately to avoid falling arse over tit with my poorly shoe, then when I finally managed to change my shoes it felt weird. Like I had had an operation on a club foot, and was all new again.

The tooth alas needed more treatment. Those in the know will be aware that I am absolutely terrified of the dentist. Not just, 'oh yeah, I don't like the dentist', but screamingly, tearfully terrified.

I have cried at the hygienist before and screamed apparently while under sedation. Yes, I said sedation - any serious work that has to be done, the dentist has to knock me out or I might bite his bloody finger off!

The dentist today was very gentle, probably read in my notes 'finger biter', and proudly informed me that I was the owner of an abscess. Wow, really? You don't say? Can I sell it on eBay?

Sadly there isn't much market value for second hand infections, so I am now dosed up with painkillers and antibiotics. No wine for me for a while then.

Apparently I require root canal work or the tooth removed. Hmm...root canal work...the word root is not really selling it me, can I have option number three?

There is no option number three. She said 'we'd like to save the tooth if we can'. I envisage tiny teeth with placards and banners pacing outside.

To be honest I don't care...I will purée my food if need be and drink through a straw as there is no way on this damn planet that they are doing root canal work. To make it worse she told me it was a complicated and long procedure. Actually she shouted it out after me as I was running down the hallway.

So September the 17th,  you are an arse...let's hope the 18th is mildly better, because anything is better than feeling like this.