Maybe it's because I don't cook much meat at home, maybe it's because the meat I DO cook, when I do it, is mostly made up of corrugated cardboard held together by salt, maybe it's because god likes to laugh at us - whatever the reason, whenever you go out to a nice restaurant, you seem to wind up with the stringy strand of something, the little bit of corn-shell, the unreachable gram of gristle between your molars.
Apple skin is also a real bitch for this one.
No matter how you realign your tongue, probing desperately towards the offending chink in your dental armor, dislocating your jaw in your efforts to find the right angle of approach, it doesn't budge.
Getting desperate, you might go in for a quick fingernail swipe. Nothing. Did you even go for the right tooth-crack?
And you're wanting to try again, but it seems so rude, and maybe toothpicks would be the answer, anyway, but really, since when has picking your teeth with a toothpick been in any way classier than doing so manually?
Inevitably you have to do one of two things to end your suffering: wait until you have access to floss or just go for it, unrelentingly, until you manage to extract the offending particle.
You know I never manage the self-control required by the first.
I suppose "waiting patiently for things to run their course" COULD be considered a third option...but if that's right, man, do I want to be wrong.
-Posted by Jilly
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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