Is it safe...?

Not knitting related (don’t throw me off the webring, pplllleaeaaassee).

I’ve a dental appointment in T minus 1½ hours. I really don’t want to go. I’m not scared or anything, I just hate the way he disapproves of my lifestyle.

He doesn’t say anything, but the way he sighs when he tells the nurse – in code – what he’s looking at reminds me of how my parents would look and sigh at my report cards. They weren’t angry, just disappointed.

It’s not like I don’t brush my teeth, but I’m not exactly mad on flossing. And I do very much like red wine. And coffee. And just colouring my teeth in with black marker so I look a bit like a pirate. (I haven’t done that last one since I was at least 12… Promise).

I know I need to have a filling today, and some “professional cleaning” – which in my opinion is something that hired hitmen do – so I’ll be having injections and dribbling on the bus. Dentist is in Shepherd’s Bush, so at least I’ll fit right in.

Wish me luck, I’ll tell you all about it après lunch.