saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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Spooky. Hungry. Death by Christmas lights.
For future reference, if you ever need to torture any information out of me, skip the bamboo under fingernails or hot irons to the feet and go straight to the dental work. Even numbed up beyond belief, I cannot stand having major work done.
That one scene in �Marathon Man� is enough to make me woozy just thinking about it.
Ooooh�.woooooze. As far as the eye can see.
So I had the fucking root canal. Next week, I get my crown. I also get a superfantastic bill for $600 for all this extraordinarily pleasurable dental action I�ve been experiencing for the past two weeks. I was just thinking a couple of months ago that I would much prefer paying to have my teeth ravaged and the tender mucous membranes of my mouth flayed raw rather than planning a nice vacation for this winter. As luck would have it, I got my wish!
Could you just die?
In other news, I am SO PREPARED for the holidays, man. You all would be amazed to see me in action. So amazed. Amazement would creep up on you like The Blob, devouring you from the legs up.
I have Halloween party plans for my daughter�s school. I have candy purchased for trick-or-treaters. I have hidden that candy to keep it from being consumed before its time. I have the offspring�s costume. I have pumpkins to buy this weekend. I have a pre-recorded message set up to answer my daughter�s, �HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL HALLOWEEN NOW, MOM?� when she asks this 150 times a day.
I have the location settled for Thanksgiving dinner. I have reminded OH of this particular location � his home � which he offered in a state of semi-liquory-ness. I have brought out the smelling salts to help him revive after I told him the location. I have coached him on how to sound sincere when my family says how nice it is that he has offered his house. I have set up therapy for him afterwards.
I have my holiday card address list almost completed. I have ordered cards. I have made a list of small gifts to purchase, for people I work with and other similar folk who take my offerings in the name of peace on earth and goodwill toward men with a generous smile, and let the offerings gather dust in forgotten corners until they finally throw them out in mid-May.
I have a list of stocking stuffers to buy.
I have sock monkey supplies.
I have wrapping paper.
I have low blood sugar.
This year, I am certain that I will not find myself lying awake at night stressing about all that I have not done in preparation for the holidays. Instead, I will be sleepless, fearing those who I know want to kill me for bringing up the holidays so soon.
They will throttle me with wrapping ribbons and leave my body in the yard, covered in Christmas lights that have several bulbs burned out, ruining the continuity of the flickering line.
I really, really need a vacation.
Or some more dental work, if I really want to relax.
12:12 p.m. - 2003-10-24
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