As I sat in the chair in the dentist's office this morning watching the strange driving habits of the people at the clinic next door, good ol' Merle Haggard ran through my head. No, I did not turn 21 in prison doing life without parole, and the impending filling filled me with no fear or worry, though one could say it was the reason for the particular record playing in my mind's jukebox.
Unlike most of my family, I have no wisdom teeth. No, I do not mean that they were removed, I mean I do not have any, thy never developed. I've always gloated (just a tad) about this fact. Until recently that is. I went 25 years with good but not great brushing habits (I brush, just not religiously like some, and I'm not always a good flosser) and had perfect, healthy, pearly whites. Then, 5 fillings. They were inevitable, he told me. My teeth have such deep, em, ridges?, that it is very hard to get all the food particles out. Thus, preemptive, in a matter, fillings. Today's filling was no different, except it was in one of my front teeth (lateral incisor). No Novocaine, by the way. (Didn't feel a thing.)
Back to the point...
Recently, I had been giving my parents a hard time. I went to see the podiatrist to check up on the foot I mashed when I dumped a motorcycle last May and while there I asked why I had such a limited range of motion in my right ankle. He whipped out my x-ray and slapped it up against the light board...ok he pulled it up on the computer monitor, but he looked at it and informed me that not only do I have an accessory bone in my ankle (which only about 7% of people have), but that is was three times larger than most peoples'. So, that's why I can't wear heels. After finding this out I kidded my parents that they thought they'd done pretty good by not giving me wisdom teeth, but it all went to my ankle instead.
They said they "tried", which is where old Merle comes in.