I like the woman who cleans my teeth every few months. She is older than the other hygienists and, in my opinion, more gentle.
She is also interesting. Whether that’s because she has a little more life experience than the others or a variety of interests that happen to coincide with mine, I cannot say.
So, when she was finishing up with me today, I asked her how her garden was coming along. We have that in common. She said she was having a few problems with moles digging things up and she is looking for a way to send them packing.
At that point, I fell asleep. I had stayed up too late last night pondering the wonders of the universe. When I came to, my hygienist was still talking.
“There are so many holes,” she said. “We’ll have to fill them all in.
“I don’t want to use poison.”
Now, I couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a minute or two but when I woke up, I forgot we had been discussing moles in her garden.
I thought she was still talking about my teeth. I immediately freaked out about all these cavities I apparently have now and it will be a frosty day in July before I let them inject poison in my gums.
Call me hard to get along with, but I hate poison.
©2024 Jim Hagarty
