This morning on my run I got knocked down by an old man on a scooter. What the _____?!
Once again, is this divine intervention?...a warning that I should put down the Adidas trainers, retire the running bra top (it is SO ready for retirement....barely hanging together by threads), and lie back and assume the bon-bon eating position?
If it's not dogs it's OAP's on two-wheelers. And it wasn't like I was on top form this morning. Yesterday I endured 2.5 hours of dental surgery (don't ask - these things ALWAYS happen to me) that went horribly wrong halfway through.
The first sign was when the dentist jumped up swearing in Bahasa and the assistants all started fretting and gathering around wringing their hands.
Turns out she inserted my crown with permanent cement, on the wrong angle. What ensued was straight out of a horror flick, with her climbing up on my seat for leverage and whacking my jaw repeatedly with a big steel instrument in an attempt to dislodge it.
Then of course, when miraculously she managed, she spent the next half hour trying to get bits of the cement remains out of my live nerve...my head reeling in horror with each traumatic twinge. I wanted to die it hurt so badly, and I begged her for more needles as I could feel everything.
A dozen injections later, i kid you not, the procedure was finished. Well sort of. I need to go back in a few days for damage maintenance. Great.
So you see, in light of yesterdays dental trauma, I suppose getting run over by a scooter doesn't really rate so highly.
But it's still a damn rotten way to start the day (sigh).