Flossing my life away

I'm standing in the bathroom, watching myself floss,
floss my life away-
tooth, by tooth, by tooth I floss,
getting every crevice and cranny and nitty little sugar bug,
lest they cause a hole in my precious canine.
It's not really a big deal to me, I suppose,
whether I have perfectly clean teeth or not,
but my job requires it,
my dentist recommends it,
and my friends appreciate my decent breath.
In goes the floss,
out comes the gunk
again,
and again,
and again,
and again tomorrow.
Why we do these repetitive things, I don't know, but
we do.
And not to sound depressing,
but I know my nails will chip tomorrow,
and I'll have to dip dip dip into
the hundred dollar stash of colored goo sitting atop my "beauty shelf."