My dentist expects marvelous things out of his patients. He apparently thinks that you should be able to respond clearly and comprehensibly to multitudes of questions hurled by a man in a white coat with funny glasses, all while, (and here's the clincher,) you have a mirror device, a sharp cleaning tool, and half a gloved hand crammed into your mouth. I mean, come on! I'm not Houdini of the mouth, doctor dentist!
So, please don't ask me questions about standardized tests for homeschoolers, how I discipline myself to get my schoolwork done on time, how my brother-in-law, grandmother, or any other family member who gets their dental work done by your office is feeling, what I intend to do after graduation, or what my political views are. Because I kind of have your hand up my throat, and my lips are being stretched to the breaking point, since you insert between questions, "Open wider, now! That's good! No, a little wider! There we go! Ooops, your mouth slipped - can we open just a little wider?"
Firstly, we? I'm sorry, did I miss something?
And secondly, this right here is why I haven't been to see you in ten months instead of six.
So, how 'bout holding off on the questions til I can swallow my spit and actually make coherent words instead of "gurgle, gurgle, grummpphh. Hmmmm? Mmmmhmmm. Gruefffelgrufflehannel."
Because I really don't like straining my grunting muscles to answer unnecessary questions.
Thank you.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
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