So there I was happily munching on my bag of toffee peanuts during my afternoon break, minding my own business, when it happened: I bit down on a rock. You know what I'm talking about: one of those really hard crunchy bits of solid sugar that are hard as a rock? Yeah. Anyway, I bit down on one of those and it was really, really hard, and I tried crunching it a bit more to see if it would soften up so I could still enjoy its sugary goodness, but it wouldn't give so I spit it out. I looked at this thing in the palm of my hand, and just before tossing it in the trash, I thought, "ooh, wierd, it's tooth-coloured." Then I started running my tongue along my teeth and came across a great gaping hole in one of my back molars. That's when it hit me: it wasn't a rock, it wasn't a tooth-colured bit of toffee, it WAS my tooth!
So, yeah, I broke a tooth. That was a fun way to end my Tuesday. (Please feel free to read that last sentence with a sarcastic tone, as that's how I wrote it.) I made an appointment with my dentist for tomorrow at 1pm to have him take a look at the damage and to find out how bad it is and how much it'll cost me. Gah!