The tube of toothpaste that just wouldn’t die finally bit the big one this morning. I only got toothpaste on 3/4rs of the brush and am sure that some teeth suffered for the lack. Not quite as pearly as we could have been today. But, by God, that was one empty tube of toothpaste. If you were to slice it open, you’d get a whiff of minty freshness but no other clue that here, once, toothpaste resided.
I judge people by whether they squeeze from the middle or the bottom. Not sure what to do with the information, but I definitely tuck it aside. A good friend of mine once told me that he judged people by whether they preferred Van Halen with David Lee Roth or with Sammy Hagar and then asked me which I preferred. This being a no contest situation, I answered and was met with a period of stunned silence before getting “You are a complete stranger to me.” This, from a middle squeezer. ALL (two) of the good Van Halen songs came with Sammy Hagar. The songs were better, his voice was better, he didn’t wear spandex – Sammy Hagar’s Van Halen was just a better experience all the way around. I judge John v Paul, too. John, clearly (RIP). Paul preferrer’s are to be avoided and maybe even quarantined.
Middle squeezers walk among us, passably functional in society even though they have a lumpy tube of toothpaste lurking in their medicine cabinet at home with product that is inevitably going to remain unused. There are probably people out there trying to love them. And yet, I bet that a sizable portion of divorces that cite “irreconcilable differences” are couples that were too embarrassed to cite having been rent asunder by Colgate.
So, ah…my thought train there was that I ran out of toothpaste and bought some more tonight at Target across the street. I also bought some wine (the one cancelling out the other) and some egg-nog latte’s from the in-store Starbucks because I’m a thoughtful person.
“What happened to you?” Asked the nerd when I walked in the door.
“This is what happens when I try to be sweet. Here’s half a latte.” The other half would have to be sucked out of my clothes.
Made it from the Target to the car, made it out of the parking lot with a latte balanced in either hand, made it around the corner and into a rather tight parking space, made it out of the car and opened that back door to get my bags out. Could’ve made trips in hindsight, but trips are for middle squeezers. End squeezers, comfortable in knowing that the order of their bathroom isn’t marred by the presence of a disorderly misshapen tube of toothpaste, can afford to take calculated risks in other areas of life. The force of slamming the car door jostled the cups that I’d stacked on top of each other out of position and set them on flippy end-over-end swan dives spilling latte made with milk and glue all over the world.
The nerd enjoyed his latte more than he otherwise would have, I think. That stupid cardigan I wore today is hand-wash only. Always check the labels before you buy!