Dear viewers, infinitely dear readers, dear listeners,
well, this is a post whose aim is merely signed to distract from the excruciating pain that is found in inevitalmente try after grubbing in the last two wisdom teeth that were left in the mouth. After twenty (almost without exaggeration) injections of anesthesia (apparently I have the makings of a T-Rex) and a few billion points (CINI) suture, I said goodbye forever to 28 and 38, the bat and the mole until yesterday tenants of the left side of my mouth. The bat was a breeze ... in practice he's flown away. The mole did not want, was holed up under the gum, so it was necessary to dig and tear, then heal properly. Yesterday afternoon I waited in terror dissipate the gas anesthetic, with 8 pounds of crushed ice on the cheek. When the anesthesia he's finally gone, it seemed to me to be able to hear them all, one by one, those punticino suture ... a line button and dug fire. Did not remember that bad, really. To think I was almost laughable, I would have taken a hammer head. I watched / cover points of Decameron ... the timeliness of Luttazzi: undeniable. However, continuing to use the previously mentioned ice, forced to swallow litrozzi blood gradually (not to spit, rinse, suck the day of surgery "- and with three simple words you are forbidden to do sooo splendid little things), with extreme fatigue and suffering at every moment fatal swallowing, I started to wonder when he appeared rather the much anticipated effect Marlon. The answer is readily arrived this morning when you wake up after a night of sleep comparable to the comatose state, one night, to my great joy and surprise, proved unexpectedly relaxing. It 's wonderful to know for sure that everything passes, everything changes constantly, Sisi. Now I'd shoot you in the mouth. But really, the way, try to follow some advice intriguing and concentrate on that pain, so full and juicy, svisceriamolo, respiriamolo, give them love and attention, give it passion. Flash. Me and my authority, of course: plural nous.
After a wonderful week-end to limits of the paranormal, ricatapultata the harsh reality of the dentist's chair.
happens.
Now I give my arms and baggage to rinse with warm water and salt. Marlon would be proud of me.
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