Monday, November 04, 2013

him: We have to leave in a minute, are you going to get dressed?

me (looking down at my sweats and baggy t-shirt): It's 7AM and I'm going to have dental surgery. Unless we're stopping at the White House for coffee on the way, I think I'm good.


In related news, dental surgery suuuuuuuucks, I'm going to die if I have to eat soft food for days and I didn't even get to keep my tooth like the doctor said (but I did get a prescription for Vicodin, so that's a little consolation).

Labels: first world problems