8.14.2008

The toothbrush

I have a green toothbrush and Michael has a blue one. They are very similar in color. Sometimes, in my haste to have sparkling white teeth and fresh breath, I will grab the blue one.

Aaaargh.

And I will really get in there, scrub off the fuzzy feeling on my grill...dig in deep on my tongue...the whole nine yards. Rinse and spit. Then repeat because I am anal retentive about my brushing. I have to rinse and repeat about three times. Then when I do the final rinse, I come to the startling realization that I've been brushing my teeth with Michael's toothbrush the entire time.

And it kinda makes want to puke.

I mean, sure, it's my husband. I've swapped spit with the man for over twelve years. It's been lovely. We've repeatedly exchanged bodily fluids for heaven's sake. Then there was that embarrassing moment during Maya's birth when he had to handle a smidge of poo. That I produced. But still. All that action with someone else's toothbrush just freaks me out. Seriously.

And now I'm off...to buy a bright red toothbrush.
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