Something strange happened today. I forgot which toothbrush is mine. No really, I was home for lunch, ate some leftovers and then wanted to brush my teeth, but as I stood at the sink looking at the toothbrushes- I was stumped. Right as I was starting to panic the phone rang and THANK GOODNESS it was my very understanding husband who calmly walked me through this process of part, tell-her-flat-out-but-don't-crush-her and part, give-her-clues-to-figure-it-out-on-her-own. There are currently three toothbrushes in the holder, but one of them is for CLEANING. Ick. Don't ask me how it's been left there so long because if I can't remember which toothbrush is mine then you can be sure I have NO IDEA when that cleaning implement was knighted "Scrubber of Grout." All I know is that it has been used for tasks unholy in the light of oral cleansing and that it looks a lot like the the toofbrush that is mine. We figured it out together, my hubby and I, my teeth were brushed and I went on with my day slightly disturbed. God bless my husband and please, PLEASE Jesus I need some sleep tonight!
On the other hand, there are things I do remember. Like the other night, after a few Mike's (it doesn't take much people) I thought it would be a great idea to try out the new tire-horse swing that my Dad hung up for my sisters... it's too small for me (heck, it's too small for almost all of us!) but the following worthwhile hysteria ensued. I laughed so hard my sister peed her pants a little (IT DOESN'T TAKE MUCH PEOPLE) and then we stood around a ghetto burn barrel and talked to my Dad about tattoo ideas, materials acceptable for burning and how kissing leads to sex. It was brilliant.
Salted Caramel Cake Recipe
3 years ago