Ah, San Francisco. The little city that could. Could what, you ask? Could deliver a totally sucky March, weather-wise. It's almost as if the city wants me to leave, and go somewhere where it doesn't rain as much. Hmmmm. Tastes slightly ironic to me.
I won't regale you with the details of my tooth saga, but I'm pretty sure that my whole mouth is turning against me. And here I was thinking that whenever I break my diet to eat pizza, I do so for the benefit of my mouth and all of the little taste buds that live in there, giving no regard to any love handles, thunder thighs or extra chins that may or may not be temporarily leasing space on my person. Well, no good deed goes unpunished, my friends. The great endodontic uprising of 2006 is upon us.