I started my day yesterday with two hours and fifteen minutes in the dentist's chair. I may or may not have mentioned this before, but I have a lot of silver fillings from my childhood, and as they get older the silver is expanding and breaking my teeth. Hence I am replacing all of said fillings slowly, as my insurance and bank account will allow. I am now on the third phase, the upper left quadrant of my mouth, and there is a lot of work being done. Making this third phase more interesting is the fact that while I wait for my gold onlay to be made, the temporary cover that I have been given for my naked teeth seems to be flavored with clove. I don't dislike the flavor of clove, thank the gods, but neither would I prefer to have the taste perpetually in my mouth, in the manner that it has been for the last thirty some odd hours. Wine is undrinkable, and so is the stingingly bitter hoppy beer that I usually enjoy. I am finding solace in Brooklyn Black Chocolate ("Blackout") Stout, but the going is not easy. The problem with my shoulder is still in limbo. I've had the stupid MRI, been to the clinic that I had to see in order to establish whether or not I have a potential workman's comp claim, and I am now waiting, waiting, waiting to hear back from the bloody Orthopedist. I finally got sick of waiting and called on Wednesday. "Hi, I have been waiting two weeks to hear from you. I was referred by Some Stupid Clinic and they said it would take seven days." "Well, you had an appointment on January sixth and you didn't show up." "You didn't call to tell me I had an appointment,and if you had I would have told you that I would be in Florida on the sixth and would not be able to make it." "Well the Clinic should have called. We would only have called to confirm." "Clearly neither of you did, or I wouldn't be calling you right now wondering what was going on now, would I? You'll excuse my tone, but I am in a lot of pain and I have been trying to get an appointment with you since the first of NOVEMBER, and I really need this dealt with." She read me the phone number she had for me, which was wrong. "But you know where I work! Why would you not call if you didn't reach me? "I don't know what happened. Now the problem is getting you in." "What do you mean?" "Well, we may not have an appointment for... we have an opening on February 6th. Can you come in then?" I banged my head silently on my desk. "Yes. I'll be there." What else can I do? I mean, I'm not going to accomplish anything by yelling at the poor receptionist, right? Curse this fucking town for it's smallness and lack of competition among providers. One more thing to add to the list of Why I Can't Stay in this Fucking Place. In other WICSITFP news, the b.h. has his company holiday party last Sunday. The place he works is great. Run by benevolent geniuses, successful, warm, and an all-around good situation. For him. He has three bosses and one boss's brother, who is a kind of junior manager guy, who is also incredibly nice. All four of them have wives or significant others, and all of these women are completely shitty to me on a regular basis. I have no idea why or what the deal is, but I've been around for a couple years now, I get on well with all of their guys, and I am so married. Not possibly a threat, right? But only one of them deigns to acknowledge me at all, and only when the others aren't looking. It is bizarre. I thought at first that maybe I was being paranoid, but the b.h. confirmed that they are not easy to know. They have all finally warmed to him after all this time, but he basically told me not to bother and not to worry about it. Ugh. It brings to mind a saying: "God made the country, Man made the city, and the Devil made small towns." I wish I could remember who said that. Anyway, the countdown to Austria is on, and upon our return I think I will start hatching an escape plan. I believe if I find myself here in a year I will lose my mind.