Ouch 2

Well it’s a big day tomorrow, and it’s necessitated the first shirt-ironing of the New Year as I have a meeting with a potential client to go to. It’s between me and one other guy and if I’m successful it’ll mean three days work each week for the next three months. Not at a particularly good rate, but to be honest I wanted to get the first one under my belt, and the last thing I was going to do was price myself out of it. I’ve also decided to get my new Hugo Boss suit out of the wardrobe… the last time I wore it was at the fateful wedding when I fell asleep and woke up when everyone else had left. So… wish me luck because I will be one very unhappy Blogger if I don’t get it.

I’m just about recovered from this morning’s trip to the dentist, too. Some time ago I badly cracked one of my back teeth eating some kind of nut or other that had the density of rock. Or something much, much denser than rock. Anyway, today (after much wringing of the nurses hand) the root was whipped out. I was in fucking agony but managed to get some mega painkillers from the local pharmacy this afternoon, so hopefully I’ll get a decent night’s sleep tonight and look nice and chirpy for tomorrow. (Okay, unlikely.)

I haven’t called or emailed C just yet. I keep getting strange texts that, whilst not being quite monosyllabic, are not dissimilar to the “Hello” of yesterday. I’m beginning to seriously believe that I’m a nut-job magnet.