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French hens.

Well, here it is. It feels like it's been such a long, trying semester. And also kind of brief. Did we start school last week or last decade kind of thing. But it all comes down to this. Tomorrow is the last day of school. Last day of earth materials. Last day of organic chemistry. Last day of sedimentary rocks.

Last sedimentary rocks test.

There's a lot of talk fluttering about concerning snow tomorrow. Some people were hoping that it would snow tomorrow and that classes would get canceled. I hope they don't get canceled. I have a fucking test to take. And I don't want to take that next week. Or blow it off. So come rain or shine, blizzard or flood, hell or super hell know this: I will want to go to class with every fiber of my being.

It doesn't even feel like the end of the year.

I'm done with all my appointments now. No more oral surgeon appointments, no more orthodontist appointments. "We'll see you next year!" The staff smiled at me as I left the building. Next year. Next year. That feels so weird.

But my orthodontist might be treating an ER doctor soon. "I'll start giving him subliminal messages," he told me. "To get him to take you under his wing." "That'd be good." I said. "Yeah, it's always good to have an insider." He told me. "Hey doc," I said. "I'm getting liquid painkiller from Gallagher, but can you give me some pain meds too?" "A real doctor wouldn't give himself painkillers." he told me. "A real doctor would suffer through everything just to know what it was like." "Yeah," I said. "But I'm going to be an ER doctor--I need a headstart on developing my self-destructive addiction." "No you have to get married and divorced four times before that." He said. We had a good laugh.

Then he put hooks in my mouth, the bastard.

Comments

Carolynn said…
They always lull you into a false sense of security, oral surgeons. The jerks.
December 4, 2009 at 5:35 PM
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