Our pal Travis got his wisdom teeth pulled today. Since my oral surgeon acted like I should notify Walter Cronkite for being 23 when I got mine pulled I can imagine his had a stroke since he is over thirty.
My husband is truly excellent at taking care of people following oral surgery though. He keeps you very drugged and eating pudding and sleeping. People talk about how much it sucked getting their's pulled and mine is sort of a funny memory. Lots of pudding and drooling and I think I called my surgeon "Dr. Lucky Charms." Since he was Scottish this was not nearly as funny as I thought it was. J also totally calls you on your bullshit when you try to get up and do things and rams the narcotics down your throat.
So poor Travis spent the day on our couch. I guess the extra twenty steps to the guest room was just TOO MUCH to bear. I brought him Jello and pudding cups and tried to talk him into staying the night. He was having none of it though we did manage to talk him out of going to school tomorrow and driving a goddamn car.
Man, I can't even get sympathy for my cold when he is so damn pitiful.