Oh no! She's back again...

Yes, as you can see, having completed my word quota for the day, I am now at a loss where to pour my wordings ... so here is a little something:

Most of us family sods, around this time of year, worry about one thing and one thing alone: how to survive the holiday period. I need not specify the particulars of such worries, but let me simply mention the words 'presents', 'in-laws', 'budget', 'fights', 'too much food', 'too little food', 'food gone bad' (tu te souviens de la mousse au chocolat, Michael?), etc.

Now today, miraculously, all my mounting worries evaporated like thin and yacky snow under my mother's hairdryer. How? You wonder. Actually, 'where?' would be a better question.

At the doctor's office.

With a friendly smile, in less than 15 minutes and for the mediocre sum of 35 euros, he made them all go away.

Because now, I worry about January.

What the good man told me was that those two charming quirky bumps on my head that have been keeping me company for so long 'simply had to go'. Now those of you who, like me, had come to believe that they were, respectively, 'la bosse des maths' (the maths bump) and 'la bosse de la linguistique générative' (the generative linguistics bump), you can cheer or mourn depending on your constitution.

The good doctor, however, just thinks that they are evil infections with potential (and, as we know, in tumor-world, unlike in novel-writing, potential counts). While he was at it, he thought he might as well catch some moles on his way out, so ...

... combining this with my standing January appointment at the dentist's, I have come up with a grand total of 6 injections that will be carried out on my little person within the span of 30 days.

ARRRGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!