vicodin and the vixen

My emotional/mental/physical status has been in roller coaster mode for what feels like weeks now. Fortunately, the sexual relationship turmoil issue has been completely taken care of. Laura and I are doing better than ever. She was extremely good to me after I had my wisdom teeth removed. (Hello Nurse!)

Mentally, mostly due (I think) to the drugs from my oral surgery, IÂ’ve been feeling not so fresh. My brain is like a pop-tart, hot and gooey inside, but all the sugar coating on the outside. I donÂ’t even know what thatÂ’s supposed to mean!

Physically, IÂ’m a wreck. One minute IÂ’m fine, then the next IÂ’m near tears until the ibuprofen kicks in. (I even resorted to the prescribed vicodin last night, which I hadnÂ’t thought I was going to do. I blame the donuts I really should NOT have thought I was well enough to chewÂ… but damnit, they were krispy kremes!)

The aforementioned vixen and I hung out last wednesday. She will probably be reading this soon. (Hello Vixen!) Things were great, the event was quite stimulating, but not in a physical way. The jury is still out on that one. We have been writing longish emails professing our love for one another. (Without ever actually using the word love, or any of its synonyms. Or even professing anything, really.)

[note of clarification: This is not to say I am in love with the vixen, or that the vixin is in love with me. Love is a sticky subject and was only used in this context for comedic impact.]

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