Guess who gets to have a root canal?
Yeehaw - it's me! That cavity I had filled back in the fall has come back from the dead and is haunting my tooth via sensitivity to all things hot, which is annoying seeing as I like to cook my food. My dentist is arranging for a specialist to do it. I assume this is because mine might be 'difficult'. Excellent.
Naturally, when I heard "root canal" I went straight to the source - Google Images. Anyone else curious as to what a root canal entails might want to click. These images not only showed me the horror of this procedure but also taught me that dental dams are actually dental-related and not just a universally ignored tool for safe sex.
Because I have to go to a specialist means that I'm going to have to fork over some of my own money. It got me thinking that perhaps it's time to consider investing a little into my smile. Seeing as I'm willing to pay money to have someone drill into my tooth and scrape its pulp out, why not spend a bit of cash on something nice? Obviously, I'd need a consultation and stuff first, but I'm looking into straightening my teeth and getting them whitened.
I'm particularly interested in seeing if I could get Invisalign. It's this clear mold of your teeth that gradually pressure them (you get new molds every two weeks) into the proper position. Totally expensive, but they sure look better than the traditional traintrack method.
My vanity knows no bounds.
28 Jan 2006
Guess who gets to have a root canal?
17 Jan 2006
In the past, when anyone's ever said they had a migraine and couldn't come into work, I'd act sympathetic but privately roll my eyes. Because I had heard the excuse so often, I tended to toss "I have a migraine" into the same pile of I-don't-feel-like-going-into-work lines as "My great aunt died" or "the cat unplugged my alarm clock".
Until it happened to me yesterday.
What I felt knocked me on my ass. There was NO WAY I could go into work. Even sending the pathetic e-mail of "me sick. not come in" was energy-draining and painful. It was as if my heart had been transplanted into my skull and was pumping HARD (but not necessarily fast). Pair head pain with pukey feelings and a vampire-like hatred toward light and you have my day yesterday.
I think my body is punishing me for not giving it booze anymore.
14 Jan 2006
I've done good since last posting. Good indeed. Here's how:
* I have not had any booze despite being handed a glass of champagne at work for a toast. I raised my glass and did the pretend drink thing where you keep your lips closed but look like you're tipping one back. NOW THAT'S RESTRAINT!
* I've kept to my diet plan and have been using my slow cooker! Chicken with Basil & Lemon is crockpotting itself right now.
* I've been seeing my personal trainer and I really like it. It's good to be excited to work out.
* I got a raise! I've been doing a swell enough job that they want to keep me and bumped up my salary even before I officially hit the end of my probation period. Wee!
It's now less than a month until I go to Mexico. Yay, yay, yay.
5 Jan 2006
Our downstairs neighbour split with his fiance.
We don't know this because we ever talk to the guy (talk to our neighbours? Us? What, when there's the Internet to talk to?). We know it through casual observations.
We discovered they were engaged because we noticed they were getting lots of little identical pre-addressed envelopes in the mail featuring cutesy, cursive penmanship that only occurs when one has lost her mind in wedding planning and actually cares about that crap.
Then one morning a moving van pulled up and started taking things out of the apartment. Patrick and I became filled with glee over the traditional grunting sounds of moving. We weren't happy to see them specifically leave - only giddy with the thought that we could perhaps move into their apartment and take advantage of the awesome, awesome deck they have. Our deck is not a deck, but is more like a railing that two people can stand on while trying not to touch each other.
Anyway, Patrick called The Charmaniac to see what was up. She relayed to us that he was staying in the apartment and she was ridding herself of him. We grieved for the deck that never was.
Even if we hadn't received the scoop from our landlord, we would have figured out that this guy is now a bachelor because of the consistent smells that waft up the vents - specifically: cigarettes and microwaved popcorn. They are now his everything. Morning, evening, 2am - he's either lighting up another cigarette or tossing another bag of Orville Redenbacher into the microwave.
It's given me a new manipulation tool, though. Should Patrick (or I) ever start acting like a brat, all I'll have to do is shove kernels in his face and ask "YOU WANT THIS TO BE YOUR FUTURE?!? NO? THEN GO BUY ME PRESENTS."
4 Jan 2006
I've bit yet another bullet (sugar-free!) and purchased 10 sessions of personal training at my gym. I'm one of those people that the diet industry just adores because I am very good at making purchases toward a "thinner me". Very good indeed.
Anyway, Natasha and I have a date with the dumbbells next Wednesday morning. It's not like I don't understand weight training or anything - it's more that I could use someone to scare and threaten me to do it and "Natasha" sounded like the most German / Cold War name on the list.
We're scheduled for 8:30am, two times a week. Which means being at the gym, changed, and starting up a little warm-up for 8:15am. Which means leaving the house by 7:15am. Which means getting up at BAAAHHH!am.
I've said it once already this week, but I'll say it again: Pray for me.
3 Jan 2006
Today marked the first day back to work. Good lord, it was hard to crawl out of bed and make my way to the subway this morning. There are some people that just LOVE working so much that even if they won a million dollars they'd still have a job because they'd otherwise be bored. Totally. Not. Me.
I do have a vacation to look forward to: Mexico! In February we're going for a week with my extended family as a bit of a reunion. While I'm so, so, so keen on it, I'm also so, so, so terrorized by the thought of being in a bathing suit. In recognition of that, I'm swearing off all booze and sugars until the trip. Pray for me.