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The root canal that wasn’t.

So, as anyone who has any contact with me (but mainly on Twitter) knows, I had a major dentist appointment today. They would also know that I hate, hate, HATE the dentist. I have horrible teeth and they always find something wrong. I blame it on my big ol’ snaggletooth in the front. He’s the source of all bad things in my life. If I ever get the money, he’s gonna get replaced by a pretty, straight, white tooth. He’ll be the Leo DiCaprio of teeth.

Anyway.

I had my appointment today at 11. I woke up around 9 and sat around whining about having to go to the dentist. I asked my grandfather to go with me and hold my hand and he told me no, but he would totally hold my hand when I got home. If you knew my grandfather, you’d know how funny that is.

I left for the dentist office at 10:45. Got there at 10:50. Sat around the waiting room. Farting. Yep. I fart when I get nervous. You do, too. Don’t act like you don’t.

Now, I should probably say that I’ve known this dentist for like 20 years now. He’s nothing to be afraid of. I think he’s adorable and he’s done a ton of work on my teeth without ever hurting me once. I have no idea why I’m so scared to go see him.

Fast foward ten minutes and a shot of novocaine later, and I’m sitting in a chair with my tooth drilled a bunch. He informs me that I don’t need a root canal at all. He wasn’t 100% positive that I did need one to begin with, and thought it would be better to say that I was coming in for a root canal rather to say I need a filling then realize I need a root canal. I’m not mad at him. I was so relieved I nearly peed my pants. They got me a nice little filling and I was on my way.

Today was a good day.

My entire food for the day was delicious, wonderful hibachi that my magnificent cousin bought for me. I am content.

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