Water in my toothpaste
My toothpaste has water in it
This may seem like a strange statement to you. It’s not like it’s something you hear every day. But you need to understand this is the truth. For some reason, my toothpaste has water in it. So much that whenever I squeeze the tube, little bubbles pop out as the toothpaste splurms onto my toothbrush. It’s disconcerting. Toothpaste should not splurm. It should splat properly. But somehow, water got into the tube and now I have splurmy paste every time I brush my teeth.
So, as I was brushing my teeth, watching little bubbles of watery fluoride waft about the bathroom, I couldn’t help but wonder how, exactly, water intruded into my (sealed) tube of paste.
These questions are best asked, perhaps, after an extremely long work day and a few cocktails.
Anyway, I pondered as I brushed. I brushed as I pondered. Thankfully, I have an electric toothbrush otherwise I may have pondered and brushed for an hour. But two minutes and thirty seconds later, I was reminded there was a whole wide world out there that didn’t involve bubbles or spulrms or any of that nonsense.
Still, I was uneasy.
I took to my bed and picked up a book. Russian science fiction. Not exactly the best for forgetting about your troubles perhaps, but perfect for pondering the big questions of life like; Why do we suffer? Who do we suffer for? Is that bread? And, of course, Why is there water in my toothpaste?
(Also...full disclosure....there is absolutely no point to this any of this. If you’re looking for some deep thoughts about the state of this reality, I suggest you look at some of my other posts. Cause this ain’t one of those.)
As I tossed and turned in bed, I pondered the vast possibilities. Perhaps someone used my toothpaste and added water so as to make it seem like it was a full tube.
I mean, we’re not talking ‘bed whiskey’ here*.
Perhaps I inadvertently added water to the tube myself late one night. But why? Even deep in my cups, I don’t see an illogical reason for such an action. Plus, I distinctly remember not cleaning up a pasty watery mess some random morning which would definitely have happened if I had tried to add water to a tube of toothpaste in the middle of the night while tipsy.
Could it be the cats?
I wouldn't put it past them. The bastards.
But no...the lack of opposable thumbs, while not a deal breaker with the little shits, precluded this from being the answer.
...Possible. But then I worry that the water is not actually water but rather a nano-slaver liquid designed to replace my conscious motor functions so they can remotely control my nervous system.
Whiskey negates all that shit.
(Which is one of the few (seventeen) reasons I drink whiskey. Middle finger to the sky, boos!!)
(Ignore that previous statement. It’s best not to ask certain questions (like ‘What are the other sixteen reasons?).)
Long story short, there’s water in my toothpaste. I feel like this is a metaphor for life but then again maybe it’s a simile. Having accepted this state of affairs, I now must deal with it. Should I try to drain the water out of the tube? Or perhaps simply accept that I will have watery toothpaste for the forseeable future. Do I fight against the splurm or embrace it?
To zen or not to zen.
Alas, I have decided to embrace the splurm. In fact, I now play a new game whilst brushing my teeth. I try to catch the little bubbles of fluoride as they float about the bathroom. It makes those two and a half minutes speed right past.
Bed whiskey is the bottle of whiskey you keep at your bedside. For emergencies only, obviously.