My Date with the Dentist

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Heaven-knows a flat-roofed house isn't a very good plan when you live in Saskatchewan, but yesterday as we drove around the streets of Wynyard after my appointment with the dentist, this homeowner's solution stood out. He built a proper roof over top, so the snow will slide off and the summer rain won't pool and his roof won't collapse from the weight.

Very sensible. Looks silly, but isn't. What's silly is to build flat-topped houses anywhere there are several feet of snow every winter. You do see quite a few of them, strangely enough.

And hey. I was nervous as hell about having those wisdom teeth pulled. Even though the roots were straight and it should be a straightforward extraction, I feared the time in the chair and the consequent swelling. Yet lo, the dentist decided only one tooth really needed to go, and had me in and out of that chair in half an hour, and the only painkillers I took were over-the-counter Advil afterward — and I'm not even sure those were necessary, I just took them to be on the safe side.

Isn't it great when an anticipated ordeal turns out not to be one? I never had one moment of discomfort, except maybe for the sensation of the dentist twisting the tooth to get it out— and that was only pressure and sound, that's all.
The dentist pronounced that he'd have had me out of the chair even quicker if my mouth was larger; he has small hands, he said, and still had to figure out how to work inside my not-gaping maw.
"If your husband or kids ever try to tell you you have a big mouth, I'll be here to tell them otherwise," he said.