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I went to see the oral surgeon on Thursday. He took one look at my x-ray and winced. It didn't come as much surprise, then, to be told that both the top and bottom left wisdom teeth need to be removed, and that they're so decayed he'll have to do it under a general anesthetic. Extraction will happen in just under two weeks, on a Friday so I can miss as little of work as possible.
This also means the operation will fall smack bang between Matt's dad being in town and Matt's mum being in town a couple of weeks later. I haven't met either of them yet, and frankly I'm not sure which is more scary right now: the operation, or the meet-the-parents fun and games. Hopefully the only painful things coming out of my mouth will be during the operation. Knowing how short the time-lapse between thoughts entering my brain and leaving my lips is though, I highly doubt I'll get off scot free.
(If you're wondering about my particularly acerbic mood, I've got a cold, sore teeth and period cramps. Killing fluffy bunny rabbits looks very attractive today.)
Matt and I are starting to make plans for Christmas. At the moment it looks like we'll spending Christmas itself in the happening city of Newcastle, then heading north to the even more fast paced environs of Nambucca. At least we'll be spreading the "Holy shit, I'm meeting your family!" experience around. If Mum's partner has any of his (grown) sons up at their place, that could make things even more interesting -- I've only met two of the three, and then only briefly. I don't know any of their partners really well.
This "planning for Christmas" stuff feels a bit weird. This will be my first Christmas without Cameron in many years, and I really wasn't expecting to be spending it with a new partner. It feels... not like Matt and I are rushing things, because nothing we've done so far has caused any fundamental freak-outs, just the sense every now and again that this situation is a little odd by 'normal' standards. Maybe it's that I feel a sense of impropriety that I've moved on so quickly. Like I should still be grieving for the relationship that died. Like there's some set period of mourning I don't know about, and I should be heeding it properly instead of incorporating my grief into the shaping of a new life and a new relationship.
Maybe I just need more bloody Neurofen.
This also means the operation will fall smack bang between Matt's dad being in town and Matt's mum being in town a couple of weeks later. I haven't met either of them yet, and frankly I'm not sure which is more scary right now: the operation, or the meet-the-parents fun and games. Hopefully the only painful things coming out of my mouth will be during the operation. Knowing how short the time-lapse between thoughts entering my brain and leaving my lips is though, I highly doubt I'll get off scot free.
(If you're wondering about my particularly acerbic mood, I've got a cold, sore teeth and period cramps. Killing fluffy bunny rabbits looks very attractive today.)
Matt and I are starting to make plans for Christmas. At the moment it looks like we'll spending Christmas itself in the happening city of Newcastle, then heading north to the even more fast paced environs of Nambucca. At least we'll be spreading the "Holy shit, I'm meeting your family!" experience around. If Mum's partner has any of his (grown) sons up at their place, that could make things even more interesting -- I've only met two of the three, and then only briefly. I don't know any of their partners really well.
This "planning for Christmas" stuff feels a bit weird. This will be my first Christmas without Cameron in many years, and I really wasn't expecting to be spending it with a new partner. It feels... not like Matt and I are rushing things, because nothing we've done so far has caused any fundamental freak-outs, just the sense every now and again that this situation is a little odd by 'normal' standards. Maybe it's that I feel a sense of impropriety that I've moved on so quickly. Like I should still be grieving for the relationship that died. Like there's some set period of mourning I don't know about, and I should be heeding it properly instead of incorporating my grief into the shaping of a new life and a new relationship.
Maybe I just need more bloody Neurofen.
