Short work weeks are the best kinda weeks. 3 days of work and then 2 days off. I like those odds!
I’d like to say I’d been utilising my extra time with getting more Reno projects done at home but instead I’ve been sleeping the extra hours away or resting in front of the TV. I haven’t been feeling well but that’s my own silly fault I guess.
So last Friday afternoon I visited the dentist for treatment on an infection that was found in the bone above one of my teeth. I was kinda pissed that the last dentist (who no longer works at this business I might add) did not pick it up – EVER, but the lady I’m seeing now did. Anyway she is much more thorough and she’s hopeful the treatment will work so after drilling the shit out of my tooth and filling it with chemicals and a temporary filling she sent me on my way with a script for antibiotics. The antibiotics were just precautionary but I decided to take them anyway because I wanted this bitch of an infection to go down. Big mistake.
Saturday, as you know, we went go karting but what I failed to mention was I forgot my lip balm. It was a fairly windy/sunny day at the track and although I slipped/slopped/slapped (aka wore shirt, sunscreen and wide brim hat) and stayed out of the sun as much as possible, my lips got wind burnt. Second mistake.
Sunday, feeling a little tired, I caught up on clothes washing and housework but by Monday I was feeling heaps rundown and to top it off a cold sore appeared in the corner of my mouth. Bloody antibiotics and their killing of all bacteria – good and bad – such shit luck!
“I’m ugly! I’m diseased!” I sniffled to Mr X pointing to my lip.
Cold sores are not unknown to me but I’m fairly vigilant at keeping them at bay. Unfortunately the dental appointment must of caused me more anxiety than I originally thought and coupled with my wind burnt lip here I was battling yet another of these dumb sores.
Mr X gave a chuckle yet hugged me tight.
“You’re not diseased! You’re still beautiful to me!”
Of course he would say this because this guy has seen me at my worst. When I got chicken pox, as an adult for instance. That shit was bad and yet he hung around and looked after me and stuff. I think that’s when I knew he was a keeper.
So Monday was kinda a wash with me because most of the day I slept away whilst Mr X tinkered in the shed and painted windows but Tuesday I had to go back to work, puss filled sore and all.
“Hey, it looks like you got a bit of food stuck on the side of your mouth…” Said a work colleague
“No, it’s just a cold sore.”
“Oh.” Scrunching up their face at my reply.
And later on with a different employee.
“What’s that?” Gesturing toward my face.
“It’s a cold sore.”
“Oh yuck. I hate those!”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Then with the Leading Hand.
“Those things are pretty contagious, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Yes they are but only if you touch them and don’t wash your hands afterward.”
By the end of the day I was feeling fairly self conscious about my appearance and even forgoed my usual stop at the shops because I didn’t want people staring at me. Under normal circumstances I’m not so vain about my appearance but it only took one little sore to unravel my confidence in myself.
“That’s it, apart from work I’m not going out anywhere till this thing heals. I feel like a leper!”
“Aww my love.”
“No, I’m serious! This sore has gotten me more cringing looks than Caitlyn Jenner and the Vanity fair cover!”
Mr X could only raise his brow at me in reply.