2006 continues to be the year of the dentist, where, with a single two-hour session, digital camera funds are drilled away in favor of saving my teeth.

It wasn't a double root canal, but it was damn close. I should count my blessings. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand . . .

I go back on Wednesday for the final visit before operatives from my insurance hunt me down and slap me until I agree not to go back until next year.

In January, I get a crown.

I might wallow for the rest of the day. It's seriously possible.