Heeeeeeeeeeelp!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I Have DAD (Dental Anxiety Disorder!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

                     Talk about April being cruel, darlings; tomorrow I have to go to the dentist, which means I have to be armed with anti-biotics--I am ready--for a cleaning, a checkup, and God knows what else. Then there is the bill.  Let's not even talk about that. It is more than a dinner at La Grenouille.

                       Nothing makes me more fearful than going to the dentist, unless it is having a colonoscopy.  Fortunately, I still have two years to go, before that. But dental visits come around every six months, and, as we get older, those intervals get faster, and the strength of our teeth gets weaker. Which is great for those who make their living in dentistry, but that was not me.  Bad enough someone has to mess with my teeth and mouth; I don't want to mess with others.

                        I may prostrate myself before the Virgin all night.  Maybe I could snooze through the whole thing!

                        And don't DARE to tell me to play "Sweeney Todd" tonight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!