Dear Diary,
Today, while I was walking to the library to do some studying, (That’s right, there’s a first time for everything.) I was whistling to myself as my feet trotted along the sidewalk. I stopped whistling for a moment, and my tongue grazed the bottom of my #16 molar. There, on the sidewalk, tongue in my mouth- I felt a piece of food.
All I could think was, “please let it be bacon from breakfast this morning and not a piece of spinach from my lunch.” And it was.
-Margaret
