Oh, joyous of joyful days how I love thee. The dark clouds are rolling in, while the wind blows branches into my newly waxed car, just as I step out the door to witness it all happen; I laugh. As I step out of the front door my head is greeted by a swiftly moving screen door courtesy of the lovely “breeze;” I say a soft swear and continue moving. Cruising down the road in my land yacht, I notice that traffic is at a complete standstill; I am unphased. Rolling into work 30 minutes late, only to be welcomed by the very boss I was hoping to dodge; I smile.
I make it to my office and have a seat. Looking around, I notice things are not as clear as they should be. Maybe, is it true? Yes! The pain medicine kicked in just in time (seriously right as I sat down). No more feeling like Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee took turns kicking me in the face. No more having to deal with the annoyingly loud girl next door. I have transcended time and space into a zen world where nothing matters. I am JP’s happy tooth.
Tomorrow ladies and gentlemen, I will not be joining in the fun. Rather, I have made an appointment with a sadist. A professional well paid sadist I might add. One that can can prescribe wonderful little white tablets of joy. O’ happy day, I cannot wait to be cut open and my tooth ripped out of my skull. I imagine it as a Frank Miller graphic novel scene turned movie. A crazed man in a white coat with a pair of pliers, and just as he yanks tooth #32 the black and white screen is strewn with blood. As if it was solid red rainbow of bodily fluids.
Okay, I admit I am being overly dramatic. But truly I have to have a wisdom tooth pulled tomorrow and it will not be fun. At least I get to spend the weekend doped out of my skull.