In celebration of my move, I vigorously floss my teeth and feel uber-confident that my huge dental debt is finally under control when something flies out of my mouth, landing in the bathroom sink. It’s a crown that’s so old, it’s made of gold (Yes, that rhymes). I stare at it as though I unearthed a treasure on an archaeological dig. Can it be? Did the one molar crown I counted on to stick around forever pop out? I had no plans to meet my new dentist this soon. Plans. Best I can say about them is that they bite.