A week ago I had an emergency dental appointment about a sore tooth that has been a problem child fr a few years now. Turns out the whole sucker had to come out. When the dental student finally yanked it free it looked more like a monster fang than any regular human tooth: long and curved and covered in blood. It seemed impossible that something so large and strange could have been a part of me (coincidentally, that’s how I feel when I finish writing a novella or novel).

I am a big baby and a pulled tooth is enough to make me whinge and whine and watch the clock so I can down an ibuprofen as soon as the micro-print on the bottle says I can. I never thought I would get sick of pudding, ice cream, milk shakes, or smoothies, but god, just the though of frozen milk products is enough to turn my stomach. I’ve started fantasizing about all the hard, chewy foods I would eat if half my mouth weren’t out of commission. Get better soon, hole in my mouth where a tooth used to be!

In related news, I have discovered that one of the sublime pleasures in life is a Veronica Mars rewatch.