Okay, okay, having your wisdom teeth out isn't as bad as I thought. Aside from the 30 minutes of screaming weeping once the Novocaine wore off from the procedure (and before the prescription meds kicked in), and the two times I spent ten minutes emptying my stomach into the Porcelain God, it's been pretty sweet.
Most of the weekend has been spent sprawled out on my bed, watching Futurama on Netflix. My mom and sister came over yesterday for a couple of hours, bringing curative supplies like chicken soup and ice cream and the World's Cutest Nephew, and my sister even spent some of that time cleaning my kitchen and fridge. The Ultracet, when not making me nauseous, keeps the world hazy in a rose-colored way, and I've gotten to indulge in multiple cat naps throughout the day. I'm actually feeling much better than I have almost all year.
Except for the fact that sitting upright for ten minutes straight is making me feel woozy. Time to crawl back into the bed with my ice cream and Diet Coke, and watch another episode.
Just hope that I stop looking like a droopy chipmunk by 9 a.m. tomorrow when I have to be back in the office. And no, people, I will not be posting pictures of that.