Ok, strap in, folks, this post will be powered by 1) lunesta, 2) hydroxosine (sp?), 3) oxycoden (sp?). So...a sleeping pill, an anti-anxiety, and a painkiller. Whoo! Rock and roll. I'm starting to like pills a bit too much. I understand why people could get addicted. But whoo I like them.

So yesterday the wisdom teeth extraction took place. M and I drove down to Mequon Rd. She took over the desk negotiations, length of the procedure, etc. A nurse who reminded me of my colleague Lisa hustled me into the back room and did the blood pressure, questions about what I ate, etc. She hooked me up to a heart and breathing monitors and told me to breathe more. I tried, but apparently I wasn't breathing properly, so she stuck two plastic prongs up my nostrils, like my nose was an electrical outlet, and out poured the sweet smell of pure oxygen. Good start. Then the Dr. entered, along with another assistant, and put in the IV. The walls shook a little, I laughed, and I was out. The next thing I remember was waking a little while they were still fucking around in my mouth but I think the turned up the IV flow and knocked me out again. M and the nurse drunk-walked me to the car. Or so I thought. 45 minutes had passed during which we chatted with a nurse about post-operation care. These memories mostly escape me. The return drive home is lost to repetition memory, too, I remember stopping to to turn in a prescription. After arriving home I crashed on the couch and watched baseball between reading that book (can't remember the title) with advice from hipsters to magazine subscribers. I'll explain it later. I couldn't eat much, just soup and ice cream. The boys were fine getting home and I thought I was in pretty good shape. I didn't take the night painkillers, slept pretty good, and woke feeling close to normal. But after I cleaned the kitchen and ate breakfast I felt tired, so I sat on the rocker and finished “Inside Job”, the documentary on the economic collapse. Pretty good. I don't know much about economics but from what I can the film was well done. I decided I needed to get out of the house so I drove south to Borders. The ride down was fine, loud music, Kraftwerk, I think, and Taylor Swift. The biographies were set at 70% so I picked up a Bukowski memoir and some weird Burroughs dream book. The drive home was a bitch, however, and I questioned my decision making as soon as I hit the freeway. While I'm not proud of this history I do have a solid background driving under the influence of various chemicals (thank you, God, for hearing my prayers) and steered straight enough to land in the garage. I ate more ice cream and watched another Bones. Then M returned home and she watched two Bones, catching up to me, while I fucked around on the computer. Then I started feeling sick. The recovery guidelines suggest gargling with saltwater. As soon as I put the liquid into my mouth boogers poured from my nose. That was interesting. And a little while later, after watching some baseball (White Sox win) and some documentary on that Banksy guy, I started to feel out of it. I took the Bukowski book upstairs and finished in about four hours. I'm back and forth on Bukowski but I liked this one. More on that in the review. Now I'm listening to Mozart's Requiem, thank you, Mr. Bukowski, for reminding me of how great classical music sounds on drugs. Oh yes. Perfect. I'm going to get the boys to bed then maybe come down here, light a candle, and stay awake as long as I can, in the dark, with the Requiem. I doubt I'll last long. The drugs are doing their jobs. Good night. More tomorrow. I feel pretty good when I don't feel like I'm ready to die.