The (dis)comfort zone

So Dylan is in his comfort zone tonight. Lucky Dylan. By contrast I had a very uncomfortable experience with the hygienist this morning who was annoyed with me for being late and hacked around in my mouth at high speed. And all the time she was trying to be nice about it, as if she had graduated with joint honours from a Swiss charm school and Guantanamo Bay. Speak softly and carry a big tooth pick, to misquote Abraham Lincoln. 

After that the actual dentist was just a pussycat. 

The rest of the day was a bit weird. My colleague who sits next to me these days - let's call her Bill - said I looked chilled, but I explained I was a bit phased after watching World War Z last night and then spending all my dreaming hours being chased by zombies. Not in a dangerous way. It was very middle class as zombie apocalypse goes; they just kept annoying me and pushing in front of me at the checkout at the supermarket, or took my biro without permission. Zombie nightmares for the genteel middle classes. Someone should make that into a movie; Zombies of Waitrose, or The Undead of Pinner.

Four days off work now but quite a few contrasting experiences ahead...