I was so pleased with my new straight teeth. Then the dentist saw them and, I don’t know, evidently felt they could be straighter? Or perhaps they are straight yet still too crowded? I am not sure.
This means that my previous 16 weeks of plastination will now extend another eight weeks. The mouth sensation makes me feel like I am Eva Perón, having dinner with Juan.
(I have never seen Evita, or even heard any part of it except Don’t Cry for Me Argentina. Is there a song about how rebels traded her preserved body for a dead rebel’s body? It seems that’s something I’ll be hearing at the opera in a decade or so.)