It's hard to believe, but it's true. I turned down an opportunity to go to L.A.'s Fashion District this afternoon. John and F. were going to the Union Rescue Mission to interview students for this quarter and I was going to hitch a ride and go shopping in the fashion district, just to look around at the blocks and blocks of shops selling every textile imaginable. Linda Heaven!
But this morning I had a date with my dentist that didn't turn out the best. No fault of my very good and very nice dentist. As he was drilling, I was feeling pain. So we'd stop, he'd add more anesthetic and resume drilling. I'd flinch and flail in pain. Repeat. Repeat. He used up every idea for pain killer and finally decided to just stop, put a temporary cover on and have me return in two weeks after he has ordered another type of anesthetic. Evidently, I have a little crack in the tooth under the old filling so it's more sensitive and will continue to give me more pain until it's fixed. Poor little tooth.
Anyway, by the time I got home from Torrance (non LA residents--that's a 45 minute drive each way--but he gives us a good discount) I was pooped. Maybe it's the drugs. Whatever. I decided to stay indoors and knit and drink Trader Joe's Moroccan Mint Green Tea and work on the mitered blanket. Such a comfort.