Doctor of Dentistry Doom.

I had another dentist appointment today, an appointment for my one filling needed. All things considered from the last debacle (root canal, cracked tooth, argh) my Sjogren's hasn't worsened anything past the point of a tiny bit of decay where I have a bad habit of tucking my sugary gum between my tooth and my tongue. Good news I suppose, again- all things considered.

I have to constantly chew gum because I constantly have a dry mouth. Drier than dry. Drier than drier than drier than dry. Unbearably dry sometimes. It is cotton-stuffed-in-your-mouth dry. Sometimes I stand next to the kitchen sink and wonder, as I refill my water bottle for the 100th time that day, what it's going to be like going through the rest of my life like this. It is that dry.

I chew the sugary gum (Stride Spearmint, always) because it lasts longer, therefore I'm not plowing through 100 pieces a day.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

Before my dentist started working on the filling this morning I asked about my cracked tooth (root canal gone bad).

"Can I keep this tooth in until it starts hurting?" I asked.

"Is it hurting?" he asked me.

"Nope."

"Not even any pressure when you chew on that side?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope."

"You can keep it for as long as you want, then. Just as long as it doesn't start swelling. If it starts swelling, then we need to get it out of there. If it starts swelling above your eyeball, we need to get it out of there right away. I learned in anatomy that any swelling above the eye is bad, because it's too close to the blood vessel barrier up that way. Same reason you're not supposed to pick a zit on your forehead. You could kill yourself."

"Ummmgh." I said. At this point his hands were in my mouth, which gave him free reign to keep chattering.

"So if that's the case, then that means I should have been dead 30 years ago." he cracked himself up with this, muffled laughter coming through his mask.

"Ughghhm?" I asked.

"I know. I'll tell you what though, my son isn't a zit picker, but man he has big pores." he fiddled with the needle, "Okay, you're going to feel a pinch here."

And that's when I realized, darling readers- aside from the horror that is known as my mouth, I should have been a dentist. I should have! The amount of over-sharing most dentists do is spectacular, as they hold you hostage with your mouth cranked wide open so you can't respond, and perhaps that is why I never felt very comfortable around my old dentist.

My old dentist was tight lipped and morose. She was young (30's?) but with old eyes (ex-tanning bed addict?). She was not a talker, my old dentist. She would give you the very brief details of what you needed to know (sometimes) and then enough silence to make your inner ears feel like they were crushing in upon themselves. It was that eerie deafening silence, a silence that should have been filled with mortifying, sordid details about her life or her kid's lives or that-old guy-that-came-in-yesterday, man was he a nightmare.

Instead it was filled with nothing except the sound of drilling, and who wants to listen to that when they're at the dentist? Silence? Drilling? Ugh. I never liked her, and I think that is why.

She did have really good magazines in her waiting area though. I'll give her two bonus points for that.

There's simply something wrong with a dentist that doesn't like to talk. Dentists are (or rather- should be) the ultimate in conversationalists, keeping a one-sided conversation going for minutes, hours as they work inside your mouth and only receive mumbles and "mummmphs" in reply. The rambling! The babbling! The yammering! The stories! The gossip! And much like a dentist, I realized as I sat tilted back in that chair as he drilled in my mouth, I hold you hostage every single second you're here reading my thoughts, darling readers, figuratively jamming my hands into your mouth as you're trapped and unable to fully respond.

HA! HA-HA! I BET YOU NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT THAT WAY, HUH!

I totally missed my calling in life. Oh fart.

So I left my dentist, numbed up and feeling quite happy over the good news that I now know dentist's son has huge pores, the biggest pores ever (er wait, that I can keep my tooth for a bit, yes that's the good news here) and my day is officially complete.

I went to Target after my appointment (my dentist is a block away from Target, handy!) and tried some cute things on, including this dress. As per all Target things, it is much cuter on me than on the internet model, I promise. It is as if Target.com tries to make their stuff look horrifically awful. Target I just, don't, get it.

I tried these on, too. Very cute and surprisingly comfy. I walked out of the store empty handed (gasp!) but pay day is tomorrow, so perhaps I will reconsider then. Cut hours at work means I need to actually watch myself a bit here. The good times are temporarily over on hiatus. Right.

Red Robin tonight for dinner (Whiskey River BBQ Chicken Wrap with extra steak fries, heck yes).

I just turned the heat on 'cuz it's that cold outside.

I have a movie off of Netflix to watch.

I have two chihuahuas snuggling on my feet.

Life is good.

...naptime!