Because I am an irresponsible adult about many some things, I have successfully avoided the dentist for the past 8 years.

Successfully, that is, until I began dating a responsible mathematician who, upon learning of this idiocy, reacted by exclaiming, “what do you mean, you don’t go to the dentist?!?!” and promptly put me on his dental insurance, signed me up for an appointment with the best dentist in town, and began an unwearying campaign of harassing me to floss before bed EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.

When I do not floss before bed, my beloved sprays me with the Kitty Discipline Bottle. Really.

Bad Courtney Fate

Bad Courtney Fate

Sooo…. tomorrow morning at the lovely hour of 8am, I have a THREE HOUR DATE with the dreaded dental chair of doom.

Dun dun dun. I need enough work done that they had wanted to set it up for two different appointments, but I lobbied to get it all done and over with at once. “Well,” the dentist told me, “your mouth will be a bit sore, but I think we can make that work.”

:(

I’m not exactly excited for tomorrow morning. At this very moment, I am contemplating running out to eat one last meal of ribs and candy apples and teriyaki beef jerky and salt water taffy and pho with tendon and now and laters candy and a big ole Ess-a-bagel and gummy bears. Fortunately, boyfriend is accompanying me to lend moral support from the waiting room while my punishment takes place. Here is to getting this unpleasant task over and done with.