Drilling Dentist

I went for a dental appointment, it being part of my entitlement with my staff pass. How often do you make dental appointments with a cosy and appealling outfit like Lee and Lee? Perhaps in this part of the world any service by such names just exudes a supreme sense of prestige and assurance. It was about a quarter of an hour of train ride from where I live. And I would not have to pay for it, I reflected with a wan smile.

Happily.

The view out of the full length window was made fader by the country wide haze, nowhere as clear and sweet as the pretty dentist's voice. However, the sounds of drilling the dentist made are really loud. With my mouth stretched wide, she scraped and drilled in me, from many different angles. The tools shrieked like some apocalyptic alien machines. The loud difference a word can make in an otherwise soft statement. made.

Noisily.

You do the usual: lay down, sit up, spit blood, & gargle the rather consistently refilled plastic cup of water. The blood in the mini basin would probably shock some, but I have my way of dealing with it. So, tempted was I to ask the pretty dentist if I would die of excessive blood loss. But I knew it would not be wise to distract the dentist with impressions of, or reactions to, my silly pick up line kind of comments. Better to wait till it is finished. The cost of blood. For teeth cleaner, and I imagine, whiter than snow.

Faithfully.

I took the same lift down after I finished my appointment and proceeded en route to another. It struck me that while I have been doing a lot of mileage on the vertical scale, between the airless zeniths and the grooved hard ground, I have not done much elevator lifts. I have been exiled to the countryside for quite a while. Feels strange to be elevated without outside visuals. It is almost like a coffin; a coffin transports you on the vertical plane too, except the elevator has lights and buttons, and it takes more people at once.

Strangely.