Two plus two is ten

A conversation at the sink in the ladies' restroom:

Coworker: How are you feeling?
Me: Pretty bleh. Still.
Coworker: Well...just suck it up.
Me: Um. Yeah.

What the fuck? "Suck it up"? THANKS, CAPTAIN HELPFUL. I think hauling my ass into work when there's been no appreciable change in how I feel since, oh, Friday definitely constitutes "sucking it up." In fact, the only real difference between the congestion, constant coughing, and overall malaise of Friday and the congestion, constant coughing, and overall malaise of today is that my Friday cough was dry and since Saturday it's been wet. And that? Is ALL. I've felt like crap for almost a fucking week now, so don't tell me to fucking suck it up.

I mean, for crying out loud. I showed up at work, and I'm getting my shit done. I don't think anything else is really required of me. I'm certainly not going to pretend like I feel okay when I really and truly don't, and I really don't need some coworker shoving platitudes down my fucking throat.

"Suck it up". Ugh. Sometimes, I really hate these people.

I had the first cavity of my entire life filled this morning, and now the left side of my mouth is completely numb. It's unnerving. I can't eat a damn thing, although I've managed to drink coffee with the aid of a straw, and intermittently I keep poking at my lips and chin to see if the feeling has come back yet. It hasn't, unfortunately, and it bothers me that the numb parts also feel incredibly cold. Is this normal?

The injection hurt like hell, even though he'd numbed me up first. Apparently, there's a nerve cluster in that part of my cheek/gum/whatever that's not there for most people, which the dentist commented on in faint surprise when I started freaking the hell out over the sudden searing pain in my mouth. I believe his exact words were, "Huh, congratulations. You're one of the few people with it in that spot. Wasn't expecting that."

ME NEITHER, JERKFACE.

Actually, no, I love my dentist and don't think he's a jerkface. It really fucking hurt, though. The last time I cried over physical pain was when I accidentally slammed my finger in the drawer of an industrial filing cabinet, and that was over two years ago. I can't help but feel a little lame about that.

Oh my god, I want the feeling in my mouth to come back! I'm hungry and I have a delicious looking donut sitting here, and I can't eat it until I can chew without worrying that I'm going to accidentally gnaw off my own tongue. Ahhhhh!

Aww, my first drunk post. How special. XD Anyway. I can't even express how happy I am that Friday has finally arrived. This has been the week from Hell. GOD. They gave me all of E's cases, and one of them -- this massive, sprawling, horrifying thing of pure evil -- goes into depositions this week, so I'm now expected to know the ins and outs of a case I've never touched so that I can have documents prepared exactly to the specifications of an attorney I've worked with but once...who changes her mind all the time.

Not that she'll admit to changing it, oh no. You just have to know that she has, go back and retroactively fix everything, and then anticipate when she wants it the way it was before.

Paralegals: The New Psychics!

To make a mid-length story short, I'm basically doing the work of two people right now, and it's driving me insane. Still no progress on the job front, although that's to be expected, given that it hasn't been that long since I buckled down and got serious about searching and applying. It's the same thing that happened when I finally got serious about finding a new apartment -- even though I was ready, it took the rest of the universe a little while to catch up. I know I'll find something eventually, so the trick will be to stick this out without going completely bugfuck in the meantime.

But today is Friday! Fridays are good. Fridays are amazing! Fridays mean donuts, and Friday means sleeping in the next morning, and this particular Friday means I'm seeing In Bruges at the Portland International Film Festival after work. Yeee! I'm so excited for this: a) I love dark comedies about gangsters, especially if said gangsters are Irish and/or English; b) I love Ralph Fiennes, and want to do dirty things to him marry him; and c) this is the first time in I don't know how many years that I'm going to see a movie by myself, and I'm wierdly giddy at the prospect.

You know what's also weird? February is the six-month mark for the breakup, and aside from my work-related woes, I've never felt happier or more secure in myself. I don't know. It's kind of awesome, actually. I'm enjoying this whole "optimism" thing.

I'm sick of these fucking headaches. They're not migraines, exactly, but whatever they are is nasty business, and they're getting worse. Normally, when I start getting headaches like this it's a sign that my system is starting to freak out over whatever medication I'm on, but all I'm taking right now is the stuff for my thyroid, which I've been on since I was 18. Either that's not working anymore, or there's something else wrong. Ugh. I'm done. Urgency care opens in a half-hour and I'll be there when it does, because I'm tired of this and either want them to tell me what the hell is wrong, or give me something to make it stop.

I've got my monitor settings turned down to their lowest possible degree so I can look up directions to the clinic. I'm currently in the "light, pain!" stage of things. God fucking dammit. Me and my stupid, defective head.

EDIT: Well, we've established that there's nothing neurologically wrong, so that's always good. :| Unfortunately, there are a bajillion types of headaches and they don't entirely understand how they all work, so now I'm back home with a bottle of vicodin (with which I am not to operate heavy machinery) and hoping like hell that it'll work. I've got another appointment next week, so...yay?