Under the Category of Things Only Dentists Should Do

I broke a bone in my hand over Thanksgiving, and, I'll tell you what,
one-handedness has seriously cramped my style. And my dental hygiene.

After the first few nights of only brushing (with my non-dominant left
hand, so by brushing I mean limply swiping at my teeth and sometimes
my cheek), I asked Tiffany if she would floss for me, and she said
yes!

Alright, alright, it wasn't quite as quick a response as that, and it
really didn't warrant an exclamation point. It was more like:

"Oh my god, are you serious?"

But still, the end result was the same: she was willing to
stick her fingers in my mouth to pick out a stubborn piece of broccoli
from our first dinner in our new apartment.

Just like she was willing to wash my hair for me. I manage that on my
own, however. Sort of. With my right hand pseudo-casted and swaddled
in a plastic bag, I can't really work up a lather anywhere except the
part of my hair I first touch.

But flossing takes two hands for sure. And Tiffany provided them.

"You know what would be easier?" I asked. Since her fingers were in my
mouth, it sounded more like:

"Uh oh ut ould ee eaier?"

"Please don't talk while my fingers are in your mouth; you're gumming
my hands," she said, grimacing.

"Oss icks!" I cried, ignoring her.

Floss sticks.