I had a restless sleep Monday night. My longest stretch of sleep was - at a maximum - 50 minutes long, but was often waking up with just 34 minutes of shut eye. (Haunting numbers.) What was keeping me awake? I was gritting my teeth. Yup, my subconscious was, ironically, spinning and spinning and spinning like a stealth dork proudly turning over the arms of his compact crank. Oh no! I've stressed myself out about "Give SD Some Love Day." My brain was pulling a Tyler Hamilton to take my mind off the pain. Ah-ha.
So I continued to grit my teeth for the next 34 (there's that number again!) hours without caution. In the 50th minute of the 34th hour (coincidence? I think not) of compulsive gritting I began to fray. (By this time, it is Wednesday morning; the early hours of the first "Give SD Some Love Day.") I was in excruciating pain -- my high cadence gritting filed down my back molars exposing the nerves. OUCH! At first I panicked, but then it struck me:
if I go in for emergency dental surgery this afternoon, I can avoid posting something nice about stealth dorks until next Wednesday. Hmmm.
So, guess what I was doing Wednesday afternoon. My dentist was in shock when I hopped into the chair and jovially submitted myself to a root canal. If only he knew what he was helping me get out of doing.
That said, Happy Belated Dorkwad Day, Dorkwads!
