I almost always love going to the dentist. Honest -- at least when it’s just for a cleaning, no Novacain, no drilling.

But today’s was an unexpected mini-vacation.

For the first time in 25 years as a patient of Dr. Andy Levine, the dental hygienist escorted me to a second-floor room. I didn’t even know they had treatment rooms on the second floor.

I lay back (laid back? layed back? I can never get that right) in the chair, bib on, mouth open, eyes closed.

“You know what would make this almost perfect?” I said to Peggy, the hygienist. “If this were a massage chair.”

“You want me to turn it on?” she asked.

“You kidding?”

Jackpot. A refreshing scraping of the teeth, a half hour of noontime peace and quiet, and a subtle back massage.

Yes, a massage at the dentist’s office.

Dr. Levine has been holding out, darn him.

“You know what would make this perfect,” I said, still reclining. “A pedicure.”