That
my life revolves around food should come as no surprise to anyone, least of all
me. Imagine my surprise then, when all the plans I’d made for a couple days’
vacation were scuppered by a visit to the dentist. I hadn’t been in a while
(laziness, cheapness and my really intense gag reflex are my main excuses). And
I called the morning of my first vacation day, not expecting to get an appointment.
A deep cleaning, several fillings and $200 later, I staggered out knowing that
my planned Five Guys take-out dinner, breakfast at the diner near the library where
I had books to pick up, and the buffet at the casino after a few rounds of
Blackjack were not going to happen. Instead it was soup and vodka and some honking
great big doses of prescription ibuprofen. Plus some mouthwash. I do wonder,
however, how I am going to be able to spend two weeks spitting:
Did you make it?
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