It's been ages since I've written here. I honestly just had to reread the most recent entry to see when I had posted last. As it turns out, it's been a while. As I've said.
I had my wisdom teeth extracted (all four!) on Tuesday morning. This was the source of much stress and consternation over the past few weeks. At the library, I had been looking up descriptions of possible complications and an answer to the question, "How long will it be before I can eat Real Food again?" The internet is clearly not the place to search for answers, since message boards are full of whiners who tell the most horrifying stories. Recovery has, on the whole, been fairly uneventful. I learned that Vicodin is underwhelming (I get tired, then a tiny bit dizzy if I haven't eaten), dry-socket is something I probably won't have to deal with, and the pain associated with the healing is more of a mild irritant (constant, dull) than THE WORST PAIN EVER OMG.
(Watching the Doctor Who mid-season finale and this line just made my life: "We're the Thin-Fat-Gay-Married-Anglican-Marines." Steven Moffatt, you have my heart. I hope you don't mind sharing it with Vincent Van Gogh.)
(Two commercial breaks later, I still have no idea what on earth is going on in this episode.)
So, recovery. I had considered live-blogging while under the influence of morphine and Vicodin, but, as my sister pointed out, I'm not that exciting while medicated. This is a shame. She is hilarious. I just sleep a lot and have some trouble walking. My teeth feel--I don't know--crowded? Especially the ones on the bottom, in front. I hope this is just a temporary thing. I never knew that teeth could feel claustrophobic, but mine do, so there you have it. I live in constant fear of ripping my stitches--are they dissolving? If they do, will they leave giant holes where things can get stuck? Did they run the stitches through the side of my cheek? So I have been taking my pills at the appropriate times and napping with my parents' cats, who are ridiculous.
Oh, and somewhere in there I found time to graduate.
Well. Sort of. Had I been in Seattle, I would have walked in my graduation ceremony today. I won't actually have a degree, though, until the end of the summer, since I didn't pass my piano proficiency exam last Friday. I will be retaking it in July, and I fully intend to pass (for realsies) then. My coursework is finished. I don't ever have to go to school again, so I'm pretty excited about that. I have been in school for 21 years. It's time for this to be over.
(I don't know how, but Arthur Darvill has suddenly, suddenly won me over this season. I wasn't sure about Rory even when he was all Badass-Roman-Centurion-Dude at the end of last series, but he's pretty awesome now)
About half this entry isn't going to make any sense to someone who doesn't watch Doctor Who. I don't care. Blogs are, by nature, awfully self-indulgent, aren't they? Well, then. I indulge myself in my fangirlitude.
I do think, though, that part of one of my stitches just came out. Horrifying. I hate this.
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