When the salad is done, I bite into my pizza. It's still warm, which is nice, but a sharp heat darts up one of my teeth. I run my tongue over my teeth, and my tongue catches on a jagged corner. Wait, no… There is no corner.
GOSH DANG IT!
It's the tooth next to the tooth I was positive was cracked! That's the one that's really screwed! So, yeah, I chipped one of my teeth for the third time in my life. (The first time was in a swimming pool. I actually chipped BOTH front teeth that time. I don't recall the second time, but that tooth is still scarred).
This is just a little post concerning my current bane. Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying being in America so far. But having a chipped tooth is annoying and stingingly painful (more stingingly sensitive than painful, but whatever). We're going to a church camp tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it.