Fang fix

Went to the dentist today. Dr Quinn is a friendly guy and I know him
socially, as if there were indeed circles of society here at the
secret city. I popped part of a filling off the other day while
wolfing down salt pastiller, and immediately I knew I had to go
get it fixed.

 The good news is that I am an excellent flosser and that good flossing
technique saved the enamel directly encasing the nerve, so I don’t
need a root canal. The bad news is that most of tooth no. 18 is now
actually that ceramic they use to replace it. I feel kind of funny
about that; as if my left ulna and humerus were made out of
papier-mâche or something.

 Still, the dental visit, coming before lunch, messed up the workout
schedule. I desisted on the morning’s run not fully cognizant at the
time (4:20 a.m. for cryin’ out loud, who would be?) of the condition
awaiting my afternoon: Dr. Q told me to go home and take an analgesic
stat, and then I missed lunch at the refectory because my mouth
was still numb at 2 pm when they closed, and I decided I didn’t want
to go earlier and chance biting through my numb tongue.

 Of course, once I had skipped lunch, I neatly psyched myself out of
going biking (I would have been fine, if anything a little logy, but
that’s not a killer) which I justified to myself by blaming the missed
nutrition and the slim possibility of something going wrong in my yap
while out riding in equal measure. Taking a second analgesic pill, at
three p.m., didn’t help persuade me either. On to tomorrow, as I
listen to Duke Ellington’s Far East Suite and finish up The
Wreck of
The River of Stars.