Brusha, brusha, brusha

Years ago, my husband went out and got us electric toothbrushes. Jim began using his religiously. Me, I never got around to it. 

After Jim died, I tossed them out.

I brush. I floss. I got along without an e-toothbrush for years. Nothing wrong with the old manual methods. Maybe I wasn't the foremost tooth-brusher on the face of the earth, but I brushed (at least) twice a day, and flossed every night. And all my teeth are my own. 

Then, a couple of years ago, Minnie, my dental hygienist, told me I should start using an electric brush to better manage plaque buildup. 

So I went out and got me an electric toothbrush. 

With day-of-purchase enthusiasm, I plugged it in and charged away.

That evening, I gave it a whirl.

The two minutes it revs at your teeth would have been the longest two minutes of my life if I'd kept it up for the full two minutes. But I gave up when the drool started drooling down my chin. Maybe 30 seconds in. Maybe I didn't even get that far.

So I proceeded to ignore its existence. Other than moving it from the vanity to the top of the small wicker chest I have in my bathroom. There it sat, invisible to me.

The other day, I had my six-month cleaning and checkup. As she does every six months, Minnie told me I had too much plaque buildup and really did need to start using the electric brush. "You'll notice a difference. I promise you."

Well, I probably won't notice that difference until my next check up, but I did decide to try again.

So when I went home, I went to look for it. When I couldn't find it in the cabinet under the vanity, or in the wicker chest, I started asking myself whether I had tossed it out. Then I spied it on the top of the wicker chest. The last place I would have looked, but there it was.

So I plugged it in, with plans to start playing.

I decided that I wouldn't commit to using it twice a day, but that I'd make it part of my evening dental ritual: floss, then electric brush. 

Night One was pretty much agony. As noted above, those two minutes are endless. (The toothbrush is set up for a two-minute brush, giving out a stuttering little pulse at thirty-second intervals to tell you to change the quadrant in your mouth that you're working on.) They say that the couple of seconds between when your head is on the chopping block and when the executioner drops the blade on the guillotine seems to last a lifetime - well, I suppose that, by that point, it does - and the time the electric toothbrushing takes may be second only to the off-with-their-head time drag.

I spent Day Two dreading the evening's brush up.

Maybe I should have gone the morning route and gotten it over with.

Nevertheless, I persisted. I figured out that I could control the drooling by spitting. Just like in the manual brushing world! Who'd a thunk it? And I was even getting good at anticipating when each quadrant's 30 seconds would be up.

Night Three I got caught up in the news of the insurrection and watched MSNBC until midnight, when I switched to CNN.

By the time I went to brush my teeth, I was just too exhausted to use the electric brush. So I reverted to my usual half-baked brush (which probably lasted all of 20 seconds).

The next morning, I decided that I was going to be come an e-brushing morning person. That way I could just get it over with, and wouldn't have to spend the day with the cloud of electric brushing hovering over me. (It reminded me of the dread I'd start experiencing late in the afternoon on Sundays when I knew I had to get up on Monday and go into work at Wang Labs.) 

So now I'm a morning electric tooth brusher. Sure, it's a drag, but it's not like I have to run out the door to catch a train to go anywhere.

Not that I exactly like it, but I'm more or less getting used to it. And when, say, in late afternoon, I'm in the bathroom and see that electric toothbrush standing there, I'm not filled with existential dread knowing that I'll have to use it in the few hours. I've got until the morning!

I may even consider considering it for my nighttime routine, as well.

In any case, I'm looking forward to my next check up, when Minnie will tell me that my plaque is under control.