Oh, joy. I have made a dental appointment for me and all the little Grits on Friday 13th. I discover this when the receptionist makes a joke about it. Until that point it had just been, innocently enough for me, 'the Friday after this one.'
Well, I can console myself as I lie there having Doctor Fang poke about in my mouth with a pointy stick. Dig will be somewhere in Brazil, sipping Caipirinha at a bar surrounded by Brazilian lovelies who want to improve their English. In fact, the organisation who want him out there to speak on commas were so desperate to get him that they offered him two business class seats on BA for him and his wife.
Well, needless to say, I'm not able to take up that offer. We couldn't find anyone who was willing to look after Shark, Tiger and Squirrel for the week. Strange.
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