I had an appointment with my dental hygienist Thursday afternoon. I had planned to arrive 17 minutes ahead of schedule because:
1) Certain appointments, like those with hair stylists, dental hygienists, and estheticians in particular, are in your best interest to be early... mainly because those folks have the ability to make you miserable with very little effort.
2) I was the last appointment of the day and the only thing standing between her and happy hour.
An overturned dump truck blocked 3 of the 4 freeway lanes, snarling traffic for miles. I watched in terror as my 17 minute window closed.
I finally arrived and ran across the parking lot, sliding through the front door as if it were first base at the world series. I glanced at the clock.
7 minutes late.
She stood, arms crossed, tapping her foot in annoyance.
I tried to tell her what happened as she cinched the spit cloth across my neck. "Ow" I yelped as it cut across my neck... and cut short my story.
I squinted into the light she had purposely pointed into my eyes and listened as she made noises with the tools just out of my line of sight.
"Are you sharpening knives back there?" I asked, laughing nervously.
"Just my curette" she replied.
"They need to be sharpened?!"
"For some people" she said, not even a hint of a smile.
I'd like to say she launched into a lovely dental cleaning session putting my fears to rest but...
Nah. It was pretty awful. I'm pretty sure I cried. I don't know. There was a lot of splattering. I couldn't identify whether it was spit, tears, blood... or all three.
When it was over, I said, "That seemed to hurt more than usual."
"Lots of tartar" she while making notes in my file, "Here's your next appointment card. Make sure to be on time."
As I walked out the door, I'm fairly certain I heard maniacal laughing.