So I got an emergency dental appointment today for my sore toof. It really wasn’t hurting too bad today, but I needed an appointment for my checkup and cleaning anyway. They took an x-ray and it turns out I have a dieing nerve under my crown. Of course, it is the cusp that sticks out the most; that is, when I bite down it makes contact before any other teeth or cusps.

I have an appointment with the endodontist (or some other perverse word) tomorrow for a (probable) root canal. As I’m in town (Bloomington-Normal; yes, my dentist is an hour away) for my book discussion group I came by the Coffehouse for a decent veggie dinner beforehand. I just ate an egg salad sandwich (soft, right?) and now my freakin’ tooth is killing me! I mean WTF? Egg salad. Not steak. Egg salad! As much as I’m averse to a root canal I am currently looking forward to having this stupid dieing nerve ripped from my body tomorrow.

I am not looking forward to driving over here and back again tomorrow, though. Nor to filling my gas tank repeatedly. *sigh*  And we won’t begin to discuss how all this dental crap is going to get paid for.
We are discussing two books that I read months ago back in the summer, both Czech.

The Joke – Milan Kundera

Love and Garbage – Ivan Klíma

Sorry for the amazon links but Open Worldcat failed me.  I don’t have time to wade through screens of completely irrelevant hits, beginning with this.

Anyway, despite the Oww! I’m off to discuss Czech literature.  Oh, and falling behind at work and school and home and life in general thanks to this new little blessing of a bad nerve.  Even my own nerves on getting on my “last nerve” lately!

“Things can only get better.  Things can only get better. Things …”