Nibbled to death by ducks

It's a way of losing weight, really. One discrete unit at a time.

Little did I know when I woke too early this morning, that by this evening I would be lighter to the tune of one (1) tooth. [I'm not sure what actually is the tune of a tooth, but no doubt people will have opinions.]

I knew it was doomed, as the antibiotics had had no effect on the abiding pain, but Karen only phoned to make an appointment; I was meant to be cooking dinner for post-yoga friends tonight, so casting a tooth was not high on my plans for the day.

Still, the dentist said "Bring him in, right now," so in we went; and - eventually - out it came. Near two hours in the chair, as it wouldn't pull and had to be cut apart in situ, with all the palaver that implies. And I saw the great saggy bag of an abscess on one of the separated roots. We were impressed by the size of the thing, Dr Holder and I. That's the second time I've impressed a dentist with my abscesses.

Now I am just hoping that we don't repeat what happened the last time I had a tooth pulled, where I contracted a dry-socket infection, which is just nasty. I have instructions, and will follow them in hope.

In other news, I will not be cooking dinner tonight. Karen speaks of fetching soup. I can haz hot & sour?

[grrr]

In other news, I am five out of six books in to the Lymond Chronicles, and still tripping over factual errors which really annoy me, because, y'know. If I can spot this stuff on a first casual reading, I who know so little actual history, then at some point in its long publishing history - these books have been around for forty years and more - someone must've pointed them out to publisher and/or author. Probably quite frequently. This degree of research is not exactly rocket science; indeed, it's not even research, it's just knowledge.

Today's factoid, since you ask? "Edward Courteney, Earl of Devonshire." Um, no. The Earls and then Dukes of Devonshire were and are the Cavendish family*. The Courteney in question was the Earl of Devon. Which anyone who knows anything about the British aristocracy should know is not the same thing: not by a long, long chalk.

*I have actually bumped into the current Dowager Duchess of Devonshire, Debo her own self. All too literally, alas, I nearly knocked her flying. With a baby. Ask me about it sometime, when I'm less grumpy. Something about losing parts of myself makes me uncharitable, I find. I have given away enough today; I am cutting no slack. At all.

Better now

I am doing fine, thank you, on a diet of hot-n-sour and Vicodin and wine. Jeannie and Katherine came round, and fetched Chineses, and I'm fairly sure that was a quart of hot-n-sour that they made me eat all by myself, gosh golly - but yup, as cited, that's medicinal. And "honey pecan shrimp" is not a dish in the UK, but y'know? It's really rather nice. (I pinched a bit of Karen's, just to see.)

And just now it was ten o'clock and our visitors had left and I was just going through from my study to hers to tell Karen that it was ridiculously early but I was going to give up the day and head for bed - and there was she, coming to find me to say the same thing. So yay. The best kind of early night is the kind you share with your sweetie. *snuggles*