Excavations.
One of my favourite poets Ogden Nash once said, and I quote; "Because some tortures are physical and some are mental, But the one that is both is dental. It is hard to be self-possessed With your jaw digging into your chest." I empathize. I had this awful gap where my molar or premolar or one of those teeth that help me chew those steaks was supposed to be. It had stubbornly resisted the onslaught of beef, gum, chocolates, and what not, and the root refused to dislodge from wherever it was comfortably sitting. This led to an awful stench, every time i opened my mouth it smelt like the backwaters of Bombay so i just had to have it extracted. Off i went, skippety hoppety to the dentist. Now, I'm very stoic, and sweet and even tempered. The milk of human kindness runs in my veins like the Ganges, perennial and with a constant stream of people doing their best to wash their dirty linen in it. But, but, BUT, that dentist really tried my patience, and how. He took one look at m...