Sure it’s easy to say you hate dentists. Nobody likes them. They drill holes in your teeth. They’re total assholes. But mine is a particular type of asshole and let me tell you why. Because he doesn’t speak to me. Instead, he relays information by talking to his hygienist, Margaret, while I’m in the room. “Looks like this fella hasn't been flossing as much as we asked him to, hey Margaret? I think he may have lost that floss we gave him. Hmmm, you'd think he’d want to keep his teeth his whole life. Sure would look pretty silly without them.” Margaret nods her head and says stuff like “looks that way,” but I don’t blame her. She’s just trying to earn a paycheck. I think she hates him too. All I can do is focus on the wise advice from the cat hanging from the tree limb in the poster on the ceiling and hang in there.
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