TMI Tuesday

Yesterday I used my toothbrush to clean my husband’s mud-caked running shoes.  I figured I would relegate this toothbrush to cleaning status, and simply go out and buy a new one.  I needed one anyway.  However it is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception holiday in Italy, and everything is closed.  So I was faced with the decision to:

A.  Not brush my teeth for a day and a half

B.  Use my husband’s toothbrush

C.  Use toothpaste on my index finger

I couldn’t really deal with option A, so I considered option B.  I looked at his toothbrush sitting there on the side of the sink.  It shouldn’t be that big of a deal.  I kiss this man every day, it’s not that much different, right?  But then I wondered about his treatment of his own toothbrush compared with mine.  I hate my toothbrush to touch the sink, I always keep it in my make-up bag.  Maybe he’s been in a hurry several mornings and didn’t rinsed it that well, or maybe he’s harboring a flu virus that hasn’t appeared yet.  The more I looked at it the more it started to resemble a teeming petri dish in a science lab.

That was too much for me to overcome.  I chose option C.  I think sharing toothbrushes is like sharing stick deodorant.  It can be done, but you probably shouldn’t.

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