This will be brief. I got up way too early to hit the gym before my third and final dental appointment for the stupid root canal. It’s done, finis, fertig and I feel like I’ve been in the ring with Russell Crowe for three hours. My jaw aches something fierce. I go back at the end of March so he can look at the rest of what used to be perfect California teeth. I’m really looking forward to that.
Sparky told me today that he was the guy who gave his soccer team members massages during the game. If I hadn’t made him promise he wasn’t gay before we got married, I might be a little worried.
The hotel where we had our German wedding celebration is turning into a whorehouse. I thought that was appropriate and fun. In the future, I can point it out and say, “Oh look, that’s were we celebrated our wedding in Germany. We had such a good time. Mutti organized the whole thing.” Mutti’s not so thrilled. She’s worried about the Russian Mafia and pit bulls, she and the other 600 Hausfraus that live there.
If I walk five kilometers in the morning, do I actually have to move for the rest of the day?