Whining

So this weekend I broke a tooth -- a molar that was like 70% fillings.  (Why, yes, I did grow up in Louisiana, a state with no fluoride in the water, because communism, thanks for asking!)

I called my wonderful dentist, who said she could fit me in today at 2:00, but sadly today is the Teaching Day From Hell, when I teach from 8:00 a.m. until 8:30 p.m., so no go on that unless I wanted to cancel classes, and since I've had to cancel classes once already this semester I was reluctant to do that.

Me: "Well, the tooth is hurting.  But not that badly.  Do you have any time tomorrow? Or Thursday?"

(These are my non-teaching days, the days I use for writing. Or, you know, going to the dentist.)

The dentist's assistant: "We can fit you in Thursday afternoon. Are you sure it's not hurting?"


Me: "Not very much."

The minute I hang up?

You guessed it.  Tooth starts banging away like a jackhammer.

Oh, well.  I can always call back.

(Original XKCD here.)