Posts Tagged ‘toothbrush’

Math Update: The Ides of January

January 15, 2009

This morning I went into the bathroom and my toothbrush was wet and I hadn’t used it. And considering the previously presented evidence (that being that I didn’t use it last night, either, because I was busy using someone else’s, so it shouldn’t have been wet anyway) I believe this validates my rant about the rash of hygiene crimes going on in the apartment. If I was in law school, like I obviously should be based on my ability to see straight through crime and make the right case every time, I wouldn’t even be home enough to use a toothbrush and maybe would be better off for it.

Point is, I had to gargle Listerine and wait to come to work to use my work toothbrush, (which I also had to replace recently because of pneumonia), and to my complete surprise, have arrived to find that not a single one of my dwindling number of coworkers has taken the liberty of opening my desk drawer and using it themselves. And I am glad, because at this rate, if that were the case, I’d probably just walk straight into traffic on 6th Ave.

And, now that I’ve had a night to subconsciously mull this over in my head, I can’t believe I didn’t see this whole thing coming. It’s one of those things that seems so obvious looking back. I have a Duane Reade in my office building. I don’t even have to go outside to get there, and the toothbrushes are right inside the door. My mom keeps giving me toothbrushes for free and I doubt my sister has received a single charity brush (but I think that has to do with pity), and in my stocking last year Santa/my mom brought me (and ONLY me), a space age, battery-operated UV light combo travel case/toothbrush disinfector from the Container Store. Moms. How do they know? (Santa clearly has a list that he checks meticulously. But I digress per usual).

Should it really be so hard, taking all this in, to predict that I would be buying 35 toothbrushes between November 2008 and February 2009? No. It seems obivous in retrospect. I didn’t need Nostradamus to realize I’d be sharing toothbrushes with everyone and their moms. How did I miss this?

Regardless, someone is still using my toothbrush.



January 14, 2009

Okay. I need to get this out of my system right now. Here is a little math problem that continues to perplex me:

Q: If 4 people live in an apartment, and there are (unexplainably) 7 toothbrushes, 5 tubes of toothpaste and a tongue scraper in the tupperware canister suction-cupped to the tile  wall in the bathroom, how many times will I change my toothbrush design, yet continue to brush my teeth with other people’s toothbrushes?

A: Trick question. It is not quantifiable. I do this all the time. And it will never stop and this is how I know: I have changed my toothbrush twice already because some dental poser keeps getting the same toothbrushes as me. Who could possibly be changing their toothbrush as frequently as I pointedly have? It is a senseless act but someone is doing it and it is driving me to the edge.

First, it was the clear Oral-B with the blue rubber that my mom gave me for free. And good samaritan that I am I tossed it so we wouldn’t get confused in the apartment. And this was after I dropped an identical one in the garbage which is stupidly situated right under the toothbrush tupperware/disease dish. Then it was one of those Duane Reade Reach impostors which I selected with the green rubber on purpose, because it’s ugly and noone in their right mind would want one like it. And I apparently was right because the person who then bought one and put it in their mouth and then into the toothbrush tupperware (thus essentially putting it in my mouth) must be crazy because they got the soft firmness which is like rubbing a chamois cloth on one of those baked on grease dishes you see in Cascade commercials. 

And that is why I was frustrated when I put it in my mouth tonight. I have to assume that no one is actually doing this on purpose, but that leaves only one highly implausible scenario – that being that we keep going around in circles, each tossing our toothbrush when another one like it comes along, only to buy another one that matches someone else’s, creating an endless cycle. This is what hell must be like.

Okay, hotshot. Drawing on your knowledge of arithmetic, karma, retail trends and communicable diseases, here’s the bonus section:

Q: Considering consumer purchasing patterns and all rubber colors on the Reach impostors at Duane Reade, how many weeks will it take me to contract a disease I can never get rid of?

Q: Approximately how many roommates contracted pneumonia from me at least once by sucking on my brush or making me snack on theirs by copying me? That is karma pneumonia. And the follow up – When will I get it again? And will I have enough money, after buying toothbrushes, to afford the Levaquin? If you answered yes to this question, you obviously don’t know what I do for a living. If you answered no, please move on to the final question.

Q: If my apartment remains at a steady temperature of 95 degrees (and suffers “Sahara Spikes” in the summer) how soon will they find my body?

Cavities are the least of my worries.

I will find out who did this.