How do you let your fella know, without hurting his feelings, that you are in a really bad mood and don’t want to see him? This is the third night in a row.. I hope I don’t blow it.

So, I have PMT, a head cold, an upset stomach, post-Christmas blues and a bloated belly the size of Ireland. Combine this with bags under my eyes like week old gym socks (the right one is, as we speak, developing a highly attractive twitch - nice), and, as my ESL student so delicately put it yesterday – eyeballs like tomatoes. I’m glad her metaphorical skills are coming on.

And on top of this, and this really is the best bit, I went to the dentist yesterday for a clean and polish and walked out with a bill for more than ? my monthly salary. How wonderful! How absolutely fabulous! How come?
The reason for the extortionate bill is not that the dentists here are the most expensive in the world, it is that I apparently need to have a LOT of work done that I didn’t know about.

I would like to take this moment to thank my UK dentist for spotting the problems in the check up she did for me only three months ago. Especially the seven fillings, because I am sure they can’t just spring up in a matter of weeks.

Anyway, due to my terribly pathetic communication skills with “Dr. Juan Grullón Alvarez” I left the place understanding that ‘anesthetic’ meant general and not just local and that the ‘surgery’ he was talking about consisted of him ripping out all my gnashers and rearranging them, and not in fact a pretty ordinary root scaling that I have since found out he meant.

Thus, understandably, I was feeling a little delicate and had to once again let down The Luscious One. And I don’t feel much better today. I can’t neglect him again can I? He’s going to start taking it personally isn’t he?

Oh Bother.

P.S. all donations to help me through this costly periodontal time will be greatly appreciated.