It probably has to do with the fact that my father was a dentist, and he took care of all our dentistry needs from home, in the dining room, with outdated equipment.
Scarred me for life it did.
The stories I could tell of foot pumped drills, teeth flying across the room, and hypodermic needles the size of your pinky finger.
I really hate going to the dentist.
But I go twice a year for a teeth cleaning, fingers clenching the armrests. With technology, the experience has been better . . . until this last time.
I guess I grind my teeth. I assume that's what caused the super deep centers in my molars which eventually turned into 3 cavities and one seriously cracked tooth, well, the cracked tooth might be from chomping down on Jolly Ranchers.
Go figure.
Well, I'll probably be a cranky, drooling curmudgeon later, so I'll just bid you all a good day!
Later, Peeps!
