This past Friday I was finally able to pick up my knitting again after more than a week of letting it idle. The Bare Branches sweater is coming along nicely, with the back and one front panel completed and some good progress on the second front panel. But that means I still have two sleeves, a hood and a good amount of seaming and grafting, so much work still to be done.

Earlier this month, fellow knitting blogger NothingButKnit wrote about her snow day knitting being ruined due to a stomach bug. I know in the past that I’ve also had periods where I felt unwell enough to not even want to knit, but it hadn’t happened in quite some time–until just over a week ago.

Last month I’d experienced some pretty intense pain in the left side of my face, head and neck and assumed it was sinus related. I went to a doctor who felt it might be a muscle spasm. I didn’t have any congestion, so she ruled out sinus infection. The muscle relaxers she prescribed helped, and after taking them for only two nights, I felt great again for a few weeks. But then the pain came back with a vengeance.

I’d had similar pain before that was from my sinuses, but which I’d initially thought was tooth related. Well, this time I thought it was from sinuses and it turned out to be a tooth issue. I spent all of the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday weekend on the couch in agony, despite the ibuprofen and muscle relaxers, so that Monday I called the dentist and was able to get an appointment for Tuesday. Turns out I had a large area of decay in one of my molars that was knocking into a nerve, so an emergency root canal (or, at least, the first phase–the one with all the drilling) was done. Yesterday was the first day since all of this started that I was finally feeling like myself again, instead of a drugged up, pain-riddled zombie. It feels good to be among the living again.

But, to make matters worse, a municipal court appearance on a grossly exaggerated traffic violation on Thursday put me back to the sum of $250. The judge gave me the option of admitting to a lesser violation than I was ticketed for (not pulling into the passing lane on the highway to give the officer parked on the shoulder more room) and paying that fine, or going to court and risking the trifecta of a fine, points on my license and increased insurance premiums if I were to lose. I had not felt that I could safely move into the passing lane that night I was issued the ticket, so instead I had slowed as much as I could while passing in the lane adjacent to the officer’s car. But conversations before and since Thursday’s hearing appointment with people who’ve been down this same road informed my decision to suck it up and pay the fine, because it was roundly agreed that there was no way a judge would believe my story over the story of the officer who issued the ticket (his version of my passing speed, the amount of room between me and the cars behind me and other things he told me that night were at best exaggerated and at worst out-and-out lies). Seems this is a common money-making endeavor in my neck of the woods. The word “graft” came up in several conversations. But what’s a girl to do? I have a spotless driving record, hadn’t been pulled over probably since I was a teenager 30 years ago and have very little faith in my ability not to let my mouth get away from me should I find myself in courtroom setting with the unreasonable/dishonest police officer and a judge set on not believing me from the get-go. It’s left a very sour taste in my mouth. Possibly more sour than the one from all that anesthetic and drilling.