Ow.

[stillane]

Except, not so much as I anticipated. Knock on wood.

Operation: Wisdom Tooth has gone off without a hitch. I am now officially wisdom-less.

For them that want to know:

I was suitably impressed by the surgeon and his people. They took me in, dealt with my freakout level - because apparently surgery can go on my list of bonafide phobias, right under snakes - and then offered me music. I got to conk out to the Barenaked Ladies, so it wasn't all bad. I felt bad for the poor anesthetist, though, who felt bad because he couldn't get the first vein to thread. (It seems I'm all flash and no follow-through. No comments, please.) We got there eventually, though, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up feeling like a groggy chipmunk.

Spent yesterday on the couch, mother in full hover mode and dog being bizarrely intuitive. From the second I wandered through the door, he stuck to me like glue. Quiet glue, even, which is a big thing for him. I love my pup.

I am not as puffy as expected, either. Also, I'm possibly done with the vicodin; as it turned out, it made me less loopy, more sleepy. Sorry to disappoint those of you hoping for barely coherent ramblings of drugged delusion. *g* So, all in all, it's going well. I'm achy and I miss solid foods, but word has it both limitations should be getting gone soon. I'm about to go take a bubblebath and hide out on the couch again, this time with added entertainment. Now, if only the house were configured for wireless...

Comments

[babelmira.livejournal.com]

I demand stoned rambling about life, the universe and who's better in bed - John, Dean or Sam.

*gakked from ignipes, I think. My brain shut down when I read the comments*

[stillane.livejournal.com]

Ooo. Well, I'm not sure about the stoned quotient, since I'm down to a single vicodin at a time, but I can certainly manage rambling, even stone-cold sober. So, let's see...

Each of them would have their strengths, of course. John's got experience on his side, Dean's got... well, okay, experience on his side, and Sam's got 'considerate' rolling off him in waves. Also, they all look damned fine in a pair of jeans, which is test number one in my world. They all have really, really good hands, although I think Sam wins on that front. Really nice grins, too, all around.

John would be slow and careful, all rough hands moved gently. Sex with him would be its own kind of ritual, keeping a whole other breed of demon at bay. The problem, though, is that I doubt there'd ever be only two people in John Winchester's bed. Lie down with John, lie down with his ghosts.

Sam would spend the night. He'd curl around you, and bury his head against your hair. He'd be the one to whisper quietly to you, and mouth your name against your skin. Sam's also got the advantage of size on his side (and no, I didn't mean... huh. Then again, there's that, too). Sam could carry you around while using the Eyes of Soulful Intent on you, and who would turn that down?

For my own personal preference, though, I'd have to bed Dean. I have a thing for smartasses, and an even bigger one for the type that hide a deep man underneath. Anyone on the outside of his definition of 'his' would get the ride of their life, because damn that boy is hot, and I get the feeling there'd be no shame there, either. Anyone on the inside would have him for life, because Dean may play, but sometimes it's for keeps. Cassie proved that he's capable of much more than the light one-nighter (not to mention that he's capable of arching off a bed while hissing attractively). Give me the boy who can be both sweet and dark, and I'm there. Give him eyes like that, and I'm lost.

Need to mosey on over and find out what the general consensus on this subject was. You said it's over in ignipes's zone?