Woke up in screaming pain. Took a gamut of five pills, swabbed on some clove oil, emailed my supervisor, turned over. Like really, I just cannot physically talk to people right now without crying.

Will be working from home just as soon as I get some files emailed to me. I have more than enough work I can do that doesn't involve talking or being around anyone else.

If I get all of that done and have the energy to clean the tub, I might just take a hot bath. That seems like a whole lot of effort, though.

In positive news, last night I had Boston Market mashed potatoes with gravy and the super-squishy don't-have-to-chew-it mac and cheese for dinner. After four days of tomato soup, I was ravenous.

So. Ready. For. This. To. Be. Over. Dry socket is totally the condition from hell.
Want pulled pork and Old Bay wings.

Grah. I finally got back to commissions tonight and what happens? My wirecutters crack. Of course.

Hopefully I'll be able to get a pair tomorrow after my appointment, if it doesn't run too long

BAH.

This weekend, aside from the performance on Sunday, I'll be staying in, buried under work.