It occurred to me last week that I’m turning 31 (welp) and I haven’t had a physical in years. That, and my dentist’s office had officially reached stalker status, calling me every week to see if I could come by for my very overdue cleaning. So, I made last Wednesday my “annual day.” You know, minus that awkward lady appointment.
That afternoon I arrived at the dentist’s office, flossed and ready to be told that I had zero cavities. Unfortunately, after an hour driving into the suburbs while chugging a venti latte, I had to go to the bathroom. Like, I absolutely cannot hold it while you tell me to “rinse and spit,” kind of urgency.
I checked in with the receptionist and made my way to the back of the office. When I opened the bathroom door, I found the dentist.
Going to the bathroom.
I could have died.
Why didn’t I knock, you ask?
Well, why wasn’t the door locked, I ask.
But wait! It gets better.