On Toothpaste

I walked into the bathroom a few weeks ago and was horrified to find not one, not two, not three, but FOUR open toothpaste tubes. How, pray tell, did we get so many?

Well, you see... two people got married and each brought a tube to the marriage. The others were added when the minty paste took a journey from one bathroom to the other and I thought we were out, so I bought another -- and my husband did the same (I kid you not). Now we have four.

My husband assured me we'd use just one tube at a time. He plastic-wrapped the extras together and stored them in the back of the medicine cabinet, not to be opened until direst need.

This system has worked wonderfully. But I think he's taking it a bit too far.

I spent what seemed like an eternity (when you've got socks on your teeth every second feels like an hour) trying to squeeze the last bit out of one of the nearly-empty tubes. "Can we please open a new one?" I begged.

With his iron-like farmer's forearms he squeezed a little blip out of the tube for me.

"Nah, this one's good for another two days."