Threshole'd

Something about almost passing out during a meeting with collaborators that you've met once before -- an introduction during the first 72 hours of kicking smokes, no less -- due to a sudden unfathomably painful death-knell from the remnants of your poor, decayed molar really puts the rest of the day in a "lets kill the fucking throb" mood. Hence, Leinies, Lost, and a bunch of Bayer's were mixed to decent effect and thrumming mindset. If need be there's still a quarter handle of bargain whiskey takin' up space in our wine rack all lonely-like. Dab that on my gums? Probably, but not until tomorrow morning.