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Warning; As you might have assumed, this post is about spit.  And saliva.  There.  You have been warned.

I recently had to go to the dentist for general maintenance issues. While I was in the chair with the little spit sucker tube doing its job in my lower jaw, I got to wondering where all that fresh saliva was headed. And for that matter, where was everybody else’s saliva going.

Was it amassing in a big spit bucket in the basement? Was it labeled spit or was it more properly dubbed saliva? Who was in charge of emptying it and how often? Would the task fall to the poor soul who forgot to restock the give-away birthstone rings and  trinkets or the one who failed to turn the page on the kitten calendar at the front desk? What did they then do with it? And exactly how much spit does one dentist’s office actually collect in the course of a day?
  
At the next break I put a few of these questions to the rather startled hygienist. She told me, “No one has ever asked me that before and frankly, I don’t want to think about it.”   She then resumed her tartar removal efforts with a bit more vigor than was really required and I began trying to will myself to salivate excessively.

On my way out I took all the August birthstone rings.

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