So, Cliff has been going without his two front teeth since Monday because the partial he's had since he was eighteen needed a little bit of work. He was to pick up his rejuvenated partial this morning at 7:30. He was quite anxious, since he hasn't enjoyed smiling without his two front teeth.
He gets home from work at 4 A.M. He slept for two hours this morning, then got up and headed to the dentist's office to fetch his teeth.
Alas, for some reason, the partial hadn't arrived. The apologetic dentist assured him they'd be there before noon. So Cliff came home and went back to bed.
Four hours later the call came; his errant teeth had arrived.
I went along and waited in the car. When Cliff came out, he had his front teeth, but he wasn't smiling. There's a gap where there shouldn't be, and a tooth that protrudes where it shouldn't. He's wearing his teeth over this weekend (a funeral, you know); then he'll send them off again, and see if they can't get it right this time.
Trying to make him feel better (because I'm all sympathetic like that) I suggested we eat at the local Mexican joint.
Every little town has one of these, right?
This sign greeted us at the door:
I'm still scratching my head. I will say they had plenty of customers, so the rumor must have been adequately squelched.