Married life: The tooth brush

In the days, weeks, and months after the wedding, the husband must learn those things which repulse the wife and avoid them at all cost! Some revulsions are rational; some, not so much. It doesn't much matter. If it disgusts your spouse, go through the minor inconvenience to detour.

It might gross a wife out that changed underwear don't find their way into the dirty close basket. Others screw themselves into the ceiling when toilet seats remain in the full upright and locked position. Most times, it's an easy thing for the husband to resolve, and if he doesn't, the event will remain a pebble in the gears of their marriage.

I learned long ago to not forget my tooth brush on trips. When I once left the sacred utensil at home, I looked to my bride and remarked, "I'll just use yours tonight." She looked at me like I'd asked her to remove her heart or her liver. I didn't ask her to eat African grubs. I would just use her toothbrush that night and on the morrow, I'd go to the local drugstore and get a new one.

I went to bed that night having cleansed my bicuspids the best I could...with my finger.

If I forget my toothbrush now, I head straight to the store. I don't pass go. I don't collect $200.

One evening last week, I walked into the bathroom to chat with my bride before bed. She was brushing her teeth. That's always a fun conversation. Lots of vowels. Not many consonants. Anyway, I reached for my blue toothbrush and it wasn't there. But her pink one was. I leaned against the wall and just stared at my wife.

She paused mid-brush and looked at me looking at her. The question mark floated over her head. I just smiled. Her brow wrinkled. I pointed at the toothbrush holder, holding her pink toothbrush.

You'd have thought she had a mouthful of fertilizer. She spit and rinsed, spit and rinsed, and danced that sacred Indian dance called, "Ewww-ewww Gross." She then brushed her teeth for fifteen minutes with her own toothbrush.

And here I thought she was just trying to overcome her phobias. Not so much. Ahhh, love.

(Told with permission...otherwise I'd be sleeping on the futon for the next three months).