The worst of the worst happened to me the other night. My nightmare of nightmares. It is a --I can not believe it -- cataclysmic scenario.
What? What shocking calamity occurred that warrants an entire blog entry? First, the background story to gain a little sympathy since Rob has not shown even a minuscule amount of compassion to my plight.
We both have one of those electric toothbrushes that needs charging every week or so and due to lack of trunk space (according to Rob who thinks one more small device would rack havoc in his packing), brought only the single charger for us to share. To give him some credit and make me not look like such a whiner, we placed it in my bathroom and agreed on mutual custody of the said appliance. The morning of the impending mishap, Rob had left his toothbrush in the thingamajig to be revived for another week. (Special side note from Rob--"I had given her a heads up".)
Jump forward to the evening of hell for me. As I'm brushing away mindlessly diverting my thoughts from the boring task at hand I glanced down and realized that I was using his brush...in my mouth...on my teeth--blakeeeekkkkkk! I screamed bloody murder with foamy toothpaste dripping down my chin. Rinse, spit, gag...repeat...several times.
I know we have been married for 36 1/2 years and have shared plenty of saliva but brushing with his toothbrush produces an involuntary gag reflex every time I even think about it--oops, excuse me for a moment.
I'm back and there you have it. My worst nightmare happened, I barely survived and contrary to Rob's belief, I am NOT a high maintenance--don't mess with my toothbrush--woman.
Thanks for reading # 79 of 7777.