Shit breath avoidance revisited

My mouth has been at DEFCON 1 since January when I was due for my last cleaning.

The old dentist was five minutes from my old office. So for the past two years I’ve been driving 45 minutes one way, out of my way, to see him. He was a good dentist. But damn.

So on a cold day in the middle of winter, I decided to blow off the cleaning and find a new dentist.

Yesterday I finally made it to the new dentist, right next to my dry cleaner and across the parking lot from my chiropractor and the tanning place.

If a gynecologist moves into that strip mall, I’m golden.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So where do you floss?” asks Sue the oral hygienist.

Heh?

“Between. My teeth. All of them?” I respond, cocking my head like Gromit when he hears me whisper ‘bye-bye?’

“No, I mean where in your house do you floss?” she clarifies.

“Oh. In the bathroom,” I respond and then start giggling uncontrollably – never a good thing when you’re prone in a dentist chair with your mouth wide open.

“Start flossing in your car,” she explained. “While you’re driving home from work. It’s a good habit.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I like the concept of flossing in my car. Using the drive home from the train station to take care of my gums makes sense.

But the thought of flinging little bits of sammich all over the place is just gross. I did take the opportunity to buy some neato-skeeto Buzz Lightyear disposable flossers.

Who the hell am I kidding? I’m gonna do what I’ve always done: I’ll floss only after eating corn on the cob. Or strawberries. For sure when I’m overdue for a cleaning.

And where will I floss? In between my teeth. All of them. In my bathroom, as God intended.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Everlast – What It’s Like
I am reading: The May issue of National Geographic – an article about Native Americans
And I am: Squeaky clean