I stand in my empty room; the cold winter light spilling in through open curtains. I have one of those cheap, plastic floss-picks lodged in between my molars. It’s white. How very boring. I stare into the middle distance. All of my neighbours are at work so the myriad windows on the building opposite mine are absent of movement or, indeed, interest. There is a small ceramic object that I can just make out in an apartment that appears to be one floor above mine. I believe it is a cat, though it would be the strangest cat sculpture I have seen (or glanced, perhaps) in some time. There is still no movement, except that of the thin strand of dental floss that I saw back and forth between my teeth, tediously working my way from one side of my jaw to the other.
Bored. That is all I can muster. All I seem to think is that word. Not the sentence, “I am bored,” mind you. Just the one word. I am struck by the realisation that those little plastic toothpick-flossing things are awful for the environment. Of course they are, you throw them away after each time you floss, so you add a little more square footage to that floating island in the middle of the ocean each and every day. Luckily for Mother Earth, I am not such a diligent flosser. I only pollute the earth every other day with my flossy-thingies. Twice a week at most, if we are being totally honest with one another.
Unfortunately, it is the only way that I manage to floss at all. I’ve tried using the old school floss that you tear off, but when I wind it around my fingers I can’t help but escape the feeling that I may reduce a digit to a bloodless, lifeless stump. As the colour slowly drains from my forefinger, the desire to have clean teeth wanes considerably. I also can’t reach my wisdom teeth without feeling as though I am using my uvula as a stress ball. This is an exaggeration or course - I only have one exposed wisdom tooth. The others are very reluctant to show themselves. Perhaps my teeth know something I don’t, and I will need the wisdom they contain at some later date.
Maybe I will plant a tree in order to offset my habitual pollution. Though I suspect planting a single tree may do more to cure my vague sense of guilt rather than address any of the harm I am doing to the environment. AH! Do you feel that? The last tooth. The plug is pulled and my daydreams swirl in brilliant colours, gurgling down the drain. Funny how my mind drifts when there is nothing to do but floss my teeth and ponder my neighbour’s taste in ceramics. Come to think of it, it may be a fox…