(no subject)

I'm not so good at this posting every day thing. But tomorrow! Tomorrow is my dental surgery! So I'll come home full of anaesthetic, take some Vicodin, and wake up eight hours later convinced I can write something coherent.

I believe this is the really real functional link to my write-a-thon page: http://clarionwest.org/writeathon/amandadownum. If you sponsor me now, you'll be paying for incoherent opiate wordage. None of which will make it into the final book, of course, but I might be foolish enough to post snippets to LJ.

I may have possibly spent tonight drinking cocktails to fortify myself for the many days of yogurt and pudding in my future. And as practice for the incoherent days to come.

(no subject)

I'm alive, and mostly conscious. I don't think my tooth has been replaced by a false on full of poison gas. But I can hope. Most importantly, I don't have a tooth disintegrating in my mouth any more, trying to take my maxilla with it.

At least this dentist warned me before I went under that I'd have to go back to get stitches removed. The first time I had my wisdom teeth out, no one mentioned that I'd be packed full of bloody gauze, which would later have to be removed. I'm wearing something like an Invisalign tray with a fake tooth in, which luckily prevents me from poking around the extraction site with my tongue, not to mention lessens the risk of harming myself with pudding.

As always happens with me and Vicodin, I have moments of clarity where I think I should be writing. Then I wake up in a puddle of drool and strange dreams twenty minutes later. We'll see which state wins.

(no subject)

Words were managed in spite of the Vicodin haze. Which means I won't know till I sober up if any of them are coherent, but for now I can pretend it's progress. If I can just figure out what's supposed to happen in this chapter, I might stay caught up on the write-a-thon a while longer.

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