What type of music was it that was SO BAD? you might ask. That's not the point.
Sitting in the waiting room today, I couldn't even focus on my book it was so bad. How does the receptionist stand it? Wait, she's probably the one who chooses the music... How horrific was her childhood life that her parents never trained her to avoid such melodic oozing?
The sappy, simple-minded words seeped slowly into my ears. Enduring the music felt like I was voluntarily jabbing a knife gradually into my brain. Such agony.
A commercial for the station came on. "Listen to 106.7!" it screamed at me in an annoying megaphone tone. I made a mental note not to ever listen to 106.7.
I thought I'd never be so happy for the dental hygienist to call my name.
Little did I know it would continue in the torture room: mirrors, probes, drills...
and the music.
Where did you get that picture of me in the dentist's office?
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