The Annual-ish Dental Report

The dental report is turning out to be an unhappy affair.  Who knew that advancing age would first manifest itself in my mouth, with disappearing enamel, yellowing color, exposed nerves, and shifting teeth.  Just had bonding done a few weeks ago, replete with the omnipresent horse needle, still unbelievably large after all these years.  And the pneumatic drill, still emitting the exact same screeching, high-pitched phhheeeeet sound which is the siren song for life-altering pain just moments away.  

It was during my last cleaning appointment that I discovered one of the primary genetic defects I inherited.  Apparently a large number of nerve endings, instead of being routed to my brain (which no doubt would have boosted my academic prowess and have then gotten me into Yale or Berkeley) were instead rerouted to my teeth, where many of them now sit exposed and await to be awakened by the prick of a dental pick.  

Stewart is fairing a little better, although he now in the tooth replacement phase of life.  

Just depressing all around.