I started writing this several days ago, before the leak, before confirmation that our abortion rights are indeed going down the drain.

I’m rageful and heartbroken, but I don’t have a blog post for that, so I’m moving forward about my choppers.

Teeth. Can’t live without them. Or you can for awhile, just ask my dead grandfather.

My dentist has me coming in for a cleaning every three months in an attempt to keep me away from the periodontist.

I don’t know how the state of my mouth compares to other middle-aged people. It feels like it might be worse than average.

I made it through childhood without any cavities, just a massive amount of orthodontia and one oral cyst.

After college I hit the road and when I returned to the country I had cavities. I added a few more since then. My front tooth chipped and everyone offers to do something about it, but I’m not interested.

My main issue seems to be gum disease. I brush twice a day. I floss. I use mouthwash. I say a prayer to the tooth fairy.

My hygienist shakes her head,

“I don’t understand. You’re doing a good job keeping them clean.”

“Ank ooo.”

“Do you drink coffee?”

No one is coming for my coffee.

“Yes.” I say with a tone that implies this is the end of the conversation.

“How many cups?”

Does the number really make a difference to my teeth?

“Two or three.”

“Over the course of the day?”

“No, in the morning.”

“You might want to try an electric toothbrush.”

I might. I might not. Captain hears the same thing. We get ourselves electric toothbrushes for Christmas.

Among the electric toothbrush’s many capabilities, it times how long you brush for. The gold standard being two minutes.

So here I am, almost 40 years old and if you had asked me six months ago if I brushed for two minutes, I would’ve said.

“Probably.”

I used my electric toothbrush for the first time and it is now safe to say I have NEVER brushed for two minutes until this past December.

Two minutes is a LONG time.

I have time to contemplate my whole life and that only takes the first minute.

The other thing my electric toothbrush has going for her, is that she has a wide range of emotions.

She smiles at me when I turn her on. She frowns if I turn her off before a minute. She gives my a half-hearted smile if I make it into the second minute. She smiles if I make it the full two minutes and if I consistently make it the full two minutes several days in a row, she gives me star eyes.

The pull of the star eyes is strong. I want my toothbrush’s approval. I want it so badly that when I’m sick of brushing and refuse to make it to the two minute mark, I’ll let her run on the side of the sink.

I’m not starting or ending my day on anything less than star eyes.

A couple months ago she prompted me to change the brush head.

That’s not a cheap proposition and she’s got a lot of nerve asking me to do it after 3 months of not brushing for two minutes.

She reminds me again. And again. She hasn’t reminded me in awhile. Maybe she’s given up.

I’m heading in for a cleaning next week. I’m sure they’ll have something to say about a tooth I broke a couple months ago. It’s not painful, so it didn’t feel urgent. I hope my dentist agrees. Or at least takes into consideration how happy my toothbrush is with me.