I had my bi-annual tooth cleaning on Monday. I pride myself in my dental hygiene, so it went well. No surprises… unlike last appointment, when a close co-worker of mine was seated in the semi-private chair next to mine and I heard wayyyy too much talk about his plaque.
That was the most surprise I’ve had in a dental appointment since ten years ago, when a disingenuous dental practice adamantly tried to convince me I needed adult braces to fix a slight overbite of my right lower lateral incisor. Hey, okay, as Louis CK once noted… at some point in our lives we just stop trying to fix things. Since my livelihood is not dependent on the correct position of my right lower lateral incisor, and because I can still eat a gristly steak, I can likely ignore it until my demise.
This time, the stranger in the semi-private chair next to me was receiving his first dental care attention in over ten years. I wonder what goes through a dental hygienist’s mind when they hear that, and realize what horrors they are about to tend to. Jeez. Even six months feels too long for me. I LOVE the feeling of the metal pick in my gums, ferreting out all the debris. Such satisfaction, like vacuuming dust bunnies out from under a bed.
In Little Boy news, he brought home a paper about his community (below). He goes to “Buttler” school (actually Butler) and we shop at “Hole Foods.” Hmmm… interesting. I also loved his visual depiction about how we get around in our community (’cause I don’t think that’s the Jetta, and that’s surely not the Subaru).
