When you pack for your trip to Portugal, don’t forget to verify that there is a sufficient quantity of floss on the rolls that you throw in your bag. I didn’t and I was sorry. When the first roll gave up the ghost after three flossings and the second turned out to have a scant 7 inches on it, I was very disappointed in myself.
When my parents had my teeth straightened fifty years ago, they so impressed upon me the cost of the process that I still feel an obligation to them to keep my smile happy. If I don’t floss, my smile is very sad. Unfortunately, my floss shortage occurred while we were on the walking part of our trip. Walmarts were in short supply. Two nights of not flossing had me worried that I wouldn’t have any teeth left by the time I got back to the states. Finally, as we were walking through a tiny village, I saw a pharmacy that was open. I popped in and, sure enough, there was an excellent selection of floss.
I picked out what looked like a fairly unexciting packet (not too high end if there is such a thing in dental floss . . . after all, it wasn’t Hugo Boss floss) and took it to the man in the white coat at the counter. He rang up this paltry sale and told me that it would be 7.65 euros. I almost fainted; even with the strong dollar, that was still over eight dollars. My teeth have never felt so pampered.