Part of the reason I like this dentist is that they don't scold you, they're fast and efficient and don't stint the drugs, and best of all, if it's gonna hurt, they tell you straight up, as in, "This is gonna be really uncomfortable," and "You'll probably have significant pain tonight." There is a comfort to be had in total honesty. At least since it was an upper molar, my jaw hinge is not the red agony it was on the lower.
Took some of the UberVicodin, drowsed through dinner, went down like a felled ox for a few hours. Loki, who was asleep on the bed, displayed the empathy that makes me remember why I love cats, seemed to decide that we were both sick together, humped himself over my arm, and purred non-stop for about two hours. The pink gunk appears to be working--he's still eating small amounts every few hours, and is a little more active than before, which gives me hope that this may be a random one-shot GI problem and not the long-term debilitating misery that I was glumly anticipating. Time will tell, of course.
I'm reading "The Mummy Congress" which is about mummy research. It's riveting. I am riveted. Like...big...steel...neat...rivets...The weird thing about reading while drugged to the gills is that you don't realize how out of it you're getting--you just keep focusing in on the written word until you look up and the world goes whomwhomwhom around you, gray sweeps in at the edges of your vision, and you make some witty observation like "Oooglleeey..." before sliding gently to the floor.