First things first, root canals do in fact suck, but they don’t suck as bad as I thought. I’m jacked on ibuprofen, so maybe I just feel bullet proof. Tomorrow morning may prove rough and achey.

Maybe the root canal didn’t suck so bad, since M. was there to drive me around and ignore my whining. Sometimes I get anxious about relationships (which I guess I should write with capital letters and a soundtrack evocative of forboding). Of course, I’ve fucked up enough to have earned a little anxiety. But, when he and are I hanging out (and going to endodontist offices), it just seems mellow and OK, as though even my worse neuroses can’t destroy the mood.

We had dinner at a Malaysian place to say farewell to the old world. Tomorrow, he’s proud to be an American, and I’m proud of him for achieving a major goal. It’s kind of weird, but as much as this country pisses me off and I maintain my right to live subversively, watching up close someone going through the process of becoming a citizen makes you aware of what’s good here. So, maybe for one 24-hour period, I’ll be proudly American too. (At least until the Pledge of Allegiance, and maybe until I hear that fucking moron George W. say something painful.)