Tooty Flutey

I figured it out. I know why the offices of the dentist, the chiropractor, the optometrist, the family practice physician, and so many other doctors of whatever always play classical music. It's not for the benefit of the patient, but rather for the doctor. Think about it; you don't have to listen to it all day, but he does. You leave after your appointment, but he doesn't. So if he would have to listen to it all day, every day, then there must be a reason. You see, when you stay up all night studying and cramming for a test, especially when your mind is racing in ten different directions at once, or even when you are not cramming but diligently studying at a controlled pace, it is nice to have a neutral sound of some sort going on while you are trying to concentrate. Something more appealing than the ticking of a clock or the wirr of your computer's CPU fan, but not something with words that will cause you to pay attention to it. Enter: classical music. No words. No monotony. No need to pay attention to it. Just neutral non-distracting sound. It takes your mind off of racing in 10 different directions, and gives it a single alternate background distraction, so that you are able to focus the rest of concentration on the major thing in front of you. Doesn't matter if it's a textbook, or a root canal in front of you. It just gives your mind some auditory stimulation to distract it, so that it can't concentrate on racing thoughts, but yet, classical music is not enough to concentrate on by itself if you play it quietly enough, so you can concentrate on your studies. So while your dentist is drilling out your tooth, and not "digging" (pardon the pun) the sound of his drill, he has something to help him maintain his level of concentration, just like he did back on those many sleepless nights in college where he would sit up stressing over his tedious studies for hours on end. It has carried over from his formal education to everyday practice. Either that, or he is just one of "those" strange hermit people who have totally lost it, and either can't stand the sound of other people's voices ore else just can't fathom the far off concept of social interaction anymore. I think Dr. Seuss would call that "frazzled" or something like that. How would I know these things? Well, it's 11:47PM on a night of the week before finals week, I can't concentrate, and this is what the desk looks like:

Among many other things, I'm studying about urinalysis. Did you know that we hermits can tell some rather unsettling things about you just by dipping a special piece of paper in a sample of your urine? We just might find out that you have jepiliepsy.