Feeling sorry for myself
I’ve had a quiet day today.
The evening before going off to New York I broke a tooth. Not just any old tooth, of course, but one which had been crowned and root filled and was hardly a tooth at all.
Until my dentist tried to get it out this morning, that is.
Having weighed up the choices I decided that there was little point in going through further root canal treatment and suchlike when there was no guarantee of success and though the implant option was going to cost megabucks (well, kilopounds, to be accurate) this is an important tooth (lower left molar) and I’m hoping that I’ll need it for a few years yet.
So, this morning I visited the dentist to have what remained of the tooth extracted. It really didn’t want to part company with me but thankfully, the result was dentist 1 : tooth 0, together with one surprisingly shaky me, as well. I hadn’t quite expected to feel quite so wobbly!
It was a quiet and rather subdued farewell to Aussie John at lunchtime, then, and a quiet afternoon spent with a pile of distractions – Kindle, a couple of digital art books, the last of my subscription to Making magazine (don’t bother!) and the £99 tablet I bought at Asda a couple of weeks ago for reading blogs and suchlike.
We have fun planned for this weekend, however, so I shall allow myself just a few more hours wallow and will then get a grip, for heavens sake. Can’t be lolling around any longer!