"New teeth. That's weird." - The Lyorn's Den
Tue Jun. 26th, 2012
04:39 pm - "New teeth. That's weird."
I have new front teeth since Friday, and they look really pretty, feel fine (if unfamiliar), and are sharp!
The rest of the week had its ups and downs.
On Monday, we were playing "Exalted" -- still our very Roman campaign, where we are officers in the least prestigious and most efficient of the Legions, and try to secure a piece of the barbaric South-west for the empire, humanity and civilisation.
We are on an island with five Dragon-blooded Exalted, ten veterans of the legion, twenty-five (twenty-four now) raw recruits, and orders to establish a base. Inspired by Asterix we called our first post (not much more than a bamboo palisade and a bunch of tents) "Provisorium" (Provisory), and the next one we intend to establish on firmer ground and with better accessibility for our ships, we'll call "Brimborium" (Fuss, Bric-a-brac).
Our first action, after arranging for food, water, and order was to start having a to-be-street chopped through the jungle to the other side of the island, where there are interesting ruins, more rocky ground, and better landing places. We found the beach already occupied by a barbarian village, and the ruins to be an abandoned magical place ready to be claimed by anyone able to keep it.
We postponed the problem of the barbarians (they will have to go, of course, but as things are now they could wipe us out) and started investigating the ruins instead, with a thought about finding a way to make that place ours. It's completely out of our league -- even to restore its magical properties will cost more than our combined fortune, and that's if we could bring architects, geomancers, feng shui masters and workers in to our heart's content.
But investigating the ruins might bring up something that will either make the place unusable for us, or drive the barbarians away, plus, more fun investigating ruins than battling with barbarians who (as our players, if not our characters are aware) have older rights to the place.
Tuesday the cleaners for the sofa were in. The cats had fled to the balcony. Tully watched the proceedings through the window, while Jerry hid behind a flower pot. It is amazing how a cat that big can disappear behind a flower pot that small with only half a pink ear and bit of whisker showing.
The cleaner brought an apprentice and some machinery large enough to hide another apprentice or two in. The very big vacuum cleaner had three engines, but could run only one without blowing the forty-year-old fuses. Soap was pumped liberally over everything, steam was created in large amounts, the vacuum howled, and finally wool balm was spread over the sofa, made the air heavy with its smell.
But the sofa looks fine now, and the cleaning went quickly enough that I could get some sleep before my singing lesson.
Wednesday I awoke at half past six with a clogged nose and a hangover-like headache. Fresh air helped. I spent 11 hours at work, went to a bakery to have coffee, cake and ice cream for dinner, and decided that, everything considered, I felt fit enough to go to choir practise. Good thing I did, because we worked on Cohen's "Hallelujah" and that one's really a pleasure to sing. The rest wasn't too bad, either: An arrangement of Toto's "Africa" (which we had already done in Frankfurt, but which could do with more work), and a work by a local composer on a text by Wilhelm Bush. The text pities the patient piano suffering under the hands of a vicious virtuoso, and there is some shouting and screaming by the singers involved. Fun.
Thursday did not make an impression. I spend again 11 hours at work, trying to provide expertise well beyond the scope of my job on a project that was old when I started in this department, and where the one person with something resembling a clue is my tech lead, who should be doing something else entirely by now. Story of that department. I must have come home and done something, but I do not remember.
Friday I was at work very early, because I had the dentist's appointment for the new teeth at 11 am and did not plan to go back to work after. I drank a lot of coffee to stay awake, so when the dentist finally had me in her clutches I burned through the painkillers like a hyperactive squirrel. She had to re-apply the painkillers twice for the 90 minutes or so of work. I got six crowns. Four of those cover the whole tooth and are incredibly smooth and polished to the touch. The others cover only half, and the teeth still feel as if there was mortar spilled on them. The colour is exactly as it should be, and the line they form is very clean and tidy. I hope that this will be it. And I sincerely hope that the insurance will pay what they agreed on.
Bicycling home, I felt like I was stoned. I couldn't sleep because of all the coffee, I could not drink calming tea, because of the anaesthesia, and I had trouble reading because my brain was a mess.
After two hours I came down from the caffeine high at least and slept for three hours, and then stayed in bed, dozing, while the feeling in my mouth came back.
Then I tidied up the living room, because we were having another role playing game (classical fantasy with a whacky element) and the GM had requested that we play in the room with the TV, so he could see the game Germany vs. Greece on mute.
I don't know if it was the sight of my antique TV, or my doubt that I remembered how to turn it on (last time I turned it on was New Year's eve, and we nearly missed the new year while attempting to get the TV do cooperate), anyway we moved back into the library (I moved all the junk back to the living room) and didn't get very far in what should have been the final battle against the chaos druids, because there were six goals scored in that damned game. But I got to eat pizza with my new teeth and enjoyed it immensely.
My plan for Saturday had been to go to the pool early, and then bicycle into town for some window-shopping, and looking at furniture. I do not have the money to buy new furniture after the upcoming move -- the old things will have to do for a few more years at least. But I can look, and make plans.
Plans didn't bear out, though, because after everyone had left on Friday I checked my mail and found a, "hey, why don't we meet for more practise tomorrow" from the ensemble.
I considered staying with half the plan, going for a swim and then bicycling to our conductor's place for the practise (same distance, different direction), but when my alarm clock rang in the morning I spontaneously decided to sleep in instead.
Practise was nice, even if we only had one singer per voice. After that, we had fresh strawberry cake, and then I went home and spend the rest of the day reading.
As usual there was so much I wanted to do on Sunday, and as usual, I managed about two things in ten. I went for a swim, and I cooked and ate rice pudding. And other than that, I did not do anything noteworthy, not even by the very low standards of "noteworthy" that apply in this diary.
And now weekend is over, and I do not like this one bit.
This entry was originally posted at http://lyorn.dreamwidth.org/10910.html. Please comment whereever suits you.