I just realized my dentist appointment in on Monday... which is February 2nd... which, for you non-Bill Murray fans who aren't in the know, is Groundhogs Day. I suppose you could be an Andie MacDowell fan and know that as well, however, I always found her to be a bit on the flighty side, so my loyalties lie with Mr. Murray.
Anyway, I can't think of a worse way to spend Groundhog's Day, you know, if the malady in the movie just happened to play out on this particular February second. Six months ago was my first visit to this dentist office. I had been to the same dentist for twenty-some years. After moving out to the Ann Arbor area, it seemed a tad silly to drive well over an hour to a dentist just because I didn't want to change.
Truthfully, I didn't want to visit a new dentist because my old dentist knew my "history". You know, the history that included vomiting in the dental chair (after a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos, no less) after a cavity filling, those types of things. It was kind of intimidating walking into a new dentist office and trying to explain the whole "well sometimes I get a little queasy" schtick. "Little" being the understatement of the year.
Things went swimmingly well at the new place, until the hygienist subjected me to a terrorist activity. Anytime someone jabs small pointy objects into the depths of your gums, well, that qualifies as terrorist activity if you ask me. Mass destruction indeed! Except the weapon was tiny as hell in this instance.
Wow - so I've gotten way off track here.
Feb. 2nd. Dentist. I'm thinking I should re-schedule.