I'm biting you first
Tuesday, Dec. 07, 2004,
I have to find a new way to smile.
The new denture will show. I kind of half-expected it, half-hoped it wouldn't. But when you only have front teeth, they have to hook it on somewhere, and there is no getting around it. It shows.
The good news about it is: A) the actual teeth are gonna be great, B) it doesn't seem to be uncomfortable, and C) I'll have my new teeth a week from Thursday.
I told my dentist I've been threatening people--"When I get my new teeth, I'm biting you first!" He laughed, and told me biting was fine. But I was not to use my partial as a martial-arts device. It isn't a throwing star.
I am sitting here feeling more and more sore-throaty, swollen-glandy, achy, fuzzy-headed, and I. Can. NOT. Be. Sick.
Simply not an option at this point in time. NONONO!!!
W finally got back to me last night to let me know she'd gotten her gift. Only took an entire month.
Typical W 'ultra-understated' thanks. But I know how to read her thank-yous and it was genuine. (I got a 'pretty cool'!)
I forgot to mention: Yesterday, my (real) boss sent out a questionnaire to gather information from his people. Under the sections marked "home e-mail", "Cell Phone #", and "Birthday", I just put private. WTF? I don't see that any of those things are his or anyone else's business. I have a cell phone in case I have to make an emergency call. It isn't so others can call me. I can be reached by e-mail through my company address, during business hours, when I am getting paid for it.And my birthday is something that I just don't want anyone at work messing with. After nine years of getting extremely pissed if anyone even suggested doing anything for my birthday, you'd think they'd be aware of that around here.
And I keep getting invited to lunches and after-work drinkies and other bullcrap. I try to beg off tactfully, but if these boorish oafs press it, I am totally not above saying it plain: I only associate with you people when somebody pays me to do it.
If I wanted this level of intrusion from a job, I'd work for a small, family-owned business, like Spouse does. Faceless corporations are my cup of tea, and I'd prefer to never be bothered by anyone seeking to get remotely personal.
I didn't go for my walk today, and I'm crabby as hell; I really do feel flu-ish and crappy. Early bed tonight, I think. Possibly some Thera-Flu.
Reading: �Dangerous to Know" by Margaret Yorke. Okay so far, Brit mystery/thriller. After eight chapters, still don't know where its going. But that is a GOOD thing.
Listening: XM, On Broadway
Beading: Too tired, too busy.