My tongue conspires
Don't ask me how, but I believe I have managed to chomp a chunk out of the most powerful muscle in my body. For the past day or so there was a rogue bump on the side of my tongue that nearly drove me right up the wall and onto the ceiling. It felt like a cold sore, but I'm pretty sure it was the result of my tongue straying into the path of my mighty molars. Regardless of how it got there, I decided it wasn't going to heal anytime soon, since I was continually gnawing on it or otherwise messing about. You know the whole "don't pick at your scabs" concept? Call it a hunch, but I'm pretty sure that that applies to the inside of your mouth as well. Of course, all this is in the past tense because the point is moot; I took a pair of nail clippers to it and the crazy-annoying taste bud tumour thing is no more. My tongue is still annoying me, but not to the same extent.

There, now don't you feel better for knowing that? I betcha do and you just won't admit it!  ¶ 8:23 a.m.