Since my pratfall last week I’ve been incommunicado. Well, indoors mostly. But the scars are healing, slowly but surely. The lips gone down, which is good from a comfort factor, trouble is, the chipped tooth is now visible.
Once the last of the bruising is gone I’ll make an appointment with Terry, my dentist, to assess the damage. Most of that will be to my wallet no doubt. No, he’s a good guy and will always give me a straight Aussie solution to any tooth problems with no unnecessary treatment or cost.
I’ve spent most of the day assembling photographs and assorted items for a job I’m currently working on. Suffered a certain amount of frustration in failing to find the ideal picture. I know it’s around somewhere, stuffed into one of the numerous envelopes I have around the place, but can I find it? No. Naturally. It will no doubt turn up when I’m looking for something else I won’t find in about three months time. Too late of course. Although I did find some pretty good substitutes that I wasn’t expecting to discover, so I’m trying to remain philosophical about it - whatever that means. Isn’t it sitting in some dingy café on the left bank, drinking absinthe and smoking a million Gauloises while gazing moodily into the middle distance, talking a great deal and shrugging a lot? Problem is, any left bank around these parts is likely to be under four feet of water.
But, as Scarlett O’Hara once said, tomorrow is another day. And who knows, maybe the rain will have stopped, the sun will be shining and that photograph will turn up.
2007-07-24 @ 14:56