Also-known-as the dentist. Anne and I had dueling appointments, our first in over a year. We went in for a cleaning, but it looks like we’ll be back for so much more. Our dentist of thirty years retired a couple of years ago and not a moment too soon. A dentist with palsy is not a comforting prospect. A year before he retired, he teamed with a much younger, much more entrepreneurial dentist. Basically a move to prolong his practice another year and then hand it off. The former guy is gone now, off to Arizona and he really was a fan of the other former guy. There is nothing more uncomfortable than being ranted at by a man who holds a diametrically opposite political view point than your own, all the while thrusting sharp metal implements down your throat. The new guy has more of a factory than a practice. Staffed all by women, I guess that makes him the cock of the walk. They all wear the same uniform and are all interlocked via a wireless intercom system. I lucked out and got a really nice hygienist, with gentle hands. She’s the one that coined the phrase, a day at the mouth spa, which got a snort from me. Anne pointed out that the T-Rex probably had minions to clean its teeth, to which I countered, so did I. The hygienist was tiny and at one point she even called in her own minion to assist her by taking notes.