Fuck that noise.

So far the deep root-cleaned part of my mouth feels perky and good. Gums are slightly swollen, but oddly enough they have a deep sense of satisfaction to them. I'm not sure how teeth can be satisfied, but they are.

As per the normal morning routine, Mike is here long past when he should be at work, occupying, re-occupying, and re-re-occupying the bathroom for ten minute increments of forever. The bathroom reeks of the citrus spray deoderizer and hospital drugs. He pays no rent and doesn't pay for his groceries, asks Scott for money, and drives the man into his defensive habit of sleeping for days at a time. Makes me feel all keen and fuzzy inside like murder warmed over, that colitis-ridden fuckhead. One bathroom for 4 people will do that to you.

Ahh, he's pseudo-leaving for the 4th time. Time to get all secret agent and wazz before zie Germans get us.

And I thought this'd be a pleasant morning. I can't even drive through and get a fucking iced-tea because the car is likely that low on anti-freeze (and I don't have enough time to put more in).

Dog's dinner, this is.

EDIT:

(20 minutes later)

Dropping off the car was easy and all the staff were quite personable. For some reason the service personnel dude who ran my stuff reminded me of my dear friend Adam from college. I wish I'd been able to see the guy when I was in Detroit last, but Wisconsin will give me a good excuse to see Cleveland and maybe my Alma Mater. I miss you, man.

----

Also, for those of you who frequent d-land chat, I've been talking to Andrew and staff about getting it fixed and repaired after the last crash and burn. Many thanks to Sistercookie for getting me Supergold. Tends to make for prompt service--that and I've become a sortof quasi-envoy of all chat regulars.

They're good people. Hell, that's how I met Dork, among others.

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