Thin tooth enamel, or rather, the decalcification of that thin tooth enamel, landed me in the dentist’s chair this afternoon. But what should have been a quick appointment to drill just enough to create space for a filling to cover the decalcified areas turned into an hour-long ordeal. The first filling went in uneventfully in about 10 or 15 minutes. But for some reason, the novocain just didn’t want to deaden the area for the second filling. He’d tried numbing both areas at the beginning; then he tested the second area after placing the first filling only to find that it wasn’t numb. So he gave me a second shot. And then a third. And then a fourth.

Finally on the fourth time, the area went dead and he could proceed with the 15 minute procedure. I left the office at about 3:30 cursing my luck that the only part of the whole ordeal that I really and truly dislike, the only part that makes me shaky and palm-sweaty, is the part I had to endure FIVE TIMES.

Unfortunately, by this point I was pretty much pickled in novocain, and 6:30pm rolled around without any restoration of feeling. I couldn’t even feel my right ear. That’s when I realized I’d need a new plan to get some calories in me before going in to work from 7-10pm. Eating dinner, wasn’t going to be an option. A friend suggested a milk shake, so I figured out where the McDonald’s is located in town and drove there on my way to the office. What could be easier than driving through the drive-through, getting a shake, and getting to work? Nothing.

Well, first of all, it was still -13 Fahrenheit plus a hefty wind-chill (but I try never to look at the wind-chill because that’s just depressing), and my car window wouldn’t roll down. So I had to open my whole car door to place my order (giggling to myself that I was probably the only person buying a milk shake in -13 degree weather). Then I asked how small their “small” shake was, because it’s been a while since I ordered a drink at McDonald’s and I couldn’t remember if it’d actually be small or if it’d be more like a medium masquerading as a small. The gentleman on the other end of the speaker was very helpful.

“It’s the size of our smallest cup, unless you want the kid’s size,” he informed me.

“Yes, I understand that. I’m not familiar with the sizes, though, so do you know about how big it is?”

“It’s just, you know, a regular ‘small’ sized cup.”

“Fine… I’d like a small shake, please.”

It turned out to be about a 12oz size, which was what I’d wanted (and what I believe used to be a medium size, once upon a time). Of course, then I had to pull around, pay at one window, and collect my shake at the next window, all without the benefit of a car window that would roll down.