The chickens have come home to roost. In my mouth.

I just got back from the dentist. We'll be seeing a lot of each other in the next few months.

I have four cavities. Four. How does that even happen? At leas they're "tiny" cavities, as my dentist cheerfully pointed out. I mentioned this before; she's really nice, even when telling me I'd be better off buying a new jaw at a local morgue.

Ok, she didn't say that. But I can tell that's what she meant.

It doesn't stop there, of course. I also need braces. It's like high school all over again. And what really kills me is I'll need braces because of previous dental work; my teeth are shifting because my wisdom teeth came out last year. Solving one problem in the back of my mouth led to me looking like Grace Ross in the front of my mouth. Aces.

But the icing on the cake has to be the now-necessary implant for a lingering baby tooth. The "adult" tooth was impacted and removed when I was like 12, so nothing ever pushed lil' baby out. But now baby's loose and ready to leave home and find an apartment in Allston somewhere. So I need an implant. That means they are going to push a screw into my jaw to hold down a fake tooth.

And of course, no one dentist can do any more than one of these things, so I'll see my regular dentist for the cavity, an orthodontist for the braces and a periodontist for the screw job. It's like I'm the golden goose of Revere dentistry. Yeesh.