WOOT CAN-OW

So there I was, sitting the endodontist's chair having my very first (and hopefully last) root canal, when it struck me.....

I was fretting over the seemingly spontaneous multiplication of my stitchy stash and wondering if maybe, just maybe, there's a whole lotta' partying going on up there in that studio. You know what I mean....one chart invites another chart over for a drink and the next thing you know there's a new litter of little charts added to the basket?

Rabbits, I tell ya'! Rabbits!

So I've decided that my stash needs BIRTH CONTROL!

(Gasp....eye-popping sounds of horror...sudden intake of breath because you can't believe I just said that out loud.)

This little thought would have been just fine if I would have kept it to myself, but sadly, I did not. I started to giggle, which made the doc think I was having some kind of convulsion, which made him stop doing whatever the hell he was doing and yell in my ear: MISS RICH! ARE YOU OK!? MISS RICH! CAN YOU HEAR ME OK?

So I did what any normal person would do....I pretended that I just needed some air, apologized profusely, cleared my throat, and got on with it. (He didn't need to know that I was sitting there thinking about STITCHING, after all. I mean, how much of a geek can one person BE in public before somebody notices?)

Two extra-strength Tylenol and I'm off to the sleigh bed. I feel pretty good now, but methinks I'm going to have one hell of a headache when this Novocaine wears off!