Dr. A:  And how are you doing today?

Madhousewife:  I’m fine.

Dr. A:  Just fine?  Just fine?  I would think after that great cleaning you would be doing more than just fine.

Mad:  Well, my teeth are fantastic, but the rest of me is just fine.

Dr. A:  I don’t know–if your teeth feel fantastic, I think that ought to make the rest of you rise to the level of pretty darn good.

Mad:  You’re right.  I’m feeling better already.

So my dentist told me that I probably had some pregnancy-induced gingivitis, but I needed to watch out for peridontal disease all the same.  So they gave me one of those rubber-tip gum stimulators–yeah, I know what you’re thinking, get your minds out of the gutter–and told me to massage my gums for several minutes each day.  Sounds like a hassle, doesn’t it?  Well, only if you do it in front of the bathroom mirror (and what kind of sicko would?).  Last night I got out my new gum stimulator and massaged my gums while watching Lost, and let me tell you…my life has been transformed.  I am verily addicted to gum stimulation.  I actually worry that my gums may be getting too stimulated.  I feel a strange compulsion to floss, like, all the time.  I want to floss right now.  Actually, the flossing is only good for a little fix until it’s time for me to massage my gums again.  I am, in fact, so impatient to massage my gums that I am tempted to do it right now, even though I ought to be doing the dishes and/or the laundry or some other productive work.  This is how it’s going to end for me, kids.  You’ll pass me in the gutter one day and hear people say, “She was a lovely woman once.  Nice home, loving family–if only she’d never met that dentist.  Such a shame.”

Must.  Resist.  Gum.  Stimulator.