Turns out, Ron had a dry socket. The doc repacked it on Monday. 
He was still in a lot of discomfort yesterday, spent the afternoon on the couch watching a cheesy James Bond movie.
I can’t stand Sean Connery in those early films: want to slap that smirk off his foppish face. Grow a beard and put on 30 years, then you’ll be entitled to strut.
I did some more shredding and drove Robert home from work. He’s got ambition, wants to do his prereqs at 4Cs and go on for a degree in biotech. He’s enjoying his work at iCape, and his manager thinks very highly of both Robert and Peter. How good to hear!