Apologies, Emily.
So it's not as easy as I thought.
I still hopped between Paramol and Ibroprofen, and inched each antibiotic a little earlier than it should have been taken.
I still shoved a table full of food that needed chewing in front of family and friends, drinking a litre of smoothie for myself for the day.
I still made it through the evening and wished friends a very merry christmas at the door, before begging off cleaning up and going straight up to bed.
And coming straight back down to write fifty words or over about how ruddy tricky it is to function with a rave in my jawbone.
Tomorrow will be better. Tonight Frosty will visit to leave something in the kids' advent calendar for the last time in 2005.
I love my husband. He takes care of me. And frowns at me for not being in bed.
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