Oral Hygiene: Part II (But Who's Counting?)

Last week I was furiously cleaning the house (er, tiny apartment) in preparation of some friends coming to visit. Hooray, friends! I was through with the main living areas and, after poking my head into the bedroom, decided it could wait since, after all, it's not exactly where you entertain guests (unless we're that kind of couple who has those kinds of friends... which we're not). Just before our friends arrived, Clark decided to brush his teeth and floss, which as you know: I'm a really big fan of. I watched him walk into the bedroom with his floss pick, and then returned, fully dressed in "guest clothing" without a floss pick. Hmm... a mystery, indeed.

Please Stop Breathing... On Me.

If there is anything I care about in this world, it is good oral hygiene. I am a tooth-brushing fanatic who loves to floss and swish mouthwash. If my teeth get ever so yellow I experience a melt down, drive to CVS, and proceed to whiten my teeth for the next 14 days until they are unnaturally white and possibly fluorescent. For some, these kinds of obsessions result from a traumatic tooth experience as a child, but for me, it's just a neuroses that I cannot shake. I think I have always been like this - at least I cannot remember NOT being like this. My dentist even goes so far as to tell me to brush my teeth less. Yes, it is that bad. I suppose it could be worse...