The fake tooth now exists. For now it's silver; in two weeks it will be replaced by gold. This is a considerable improvement on the not-actually-really-a-tooth actual-tooth that had been bothering me off and on for 15 months, and despite the considerable cost (not least in terms of time--though I've been notably productive the past couple-three weeks, I've also had to force myself through it, arrrgh--but mostly I'm talking money here; root canals are expensive), I'm really glad to have it taken care of. Plus my dentist is excellent! Last week, I went in and had the bad tooth cleaned out; it flared up like a motherfucker for the rest of the day, almost completely unbearable--taking 15 months of infection out was not unlike what I imagine removing a bullet from a wound is like, or a sliver if you prefer. Probably a cross between the two, actually, but believe me, it hurt worse than at any point of it actually being infected. Anyway, 7pm, I'm on the phone at the office and there's a direct-line call. It's the dentist: "Just wanted to check up on you and make sure you were doing OK." WOW! What a guy! Dr. Rick Chavez, ladies and gentlemen, runs a family dental outfit at 8008 NW 15th Ave. in Seattle, check him out.