Show me your teeth

One of the worst parts about moving is having to find a new dentist. In all my years of oral hygiene, the best dentist I ever had was the one I found in Washington, DC. He was the dentist to almost everyone in my company, and when I referred a new employee to him, she returned exclaiming that she wanted to marry him because of his kind demeanor, gentle touch, professionalism and easiness on the eyes.

In any case, I went to see a new dentist yesterday, at the super-positive recommendation of a co-worker. I thought I'd scheduled a routine examination and cleaning, but instead spent over an hour in the chair as the dentist (who was nothing special) counted and took pictures of my teeth while I pulled my lips apart with lip separators (something I'd never had to do before in my life). Then, the assistant took a billion x-rays before sending me to the front desk ... to schedule a cleaning!

The receptionist informed me that the next available appointment would be at the end of September, but I let her know she was acting like an idiot with that suggestion, so I'm going back tomorrow morning.