Toothbrush Tales

While we stayed overseas, I would write regular updates back home to our friends and family informing them of all the new and fantastic things that were going on in our exotic lives. I happened to be going through these letters the other day, and found one that I think you might like. Here goes:

It was the night before last week Saturday, and all through the sandpit, not a creature was stirring, not even one of those really big geckos that cling to the walls around the compound.

 

Brett was in Riyadh for the whole of last week on a training course for work. For Brett this meant going crazy in a hotel room (because he didn’t know what else to do on his own in Riyadh) and for Jess it meant going crazy at home because she didn’t have a car to use for the evening Cinnabon gathering missions.

 

All should not be seen in a negative light, however. Brett did get a chance to work out in the hotel’s exclusive gym AND go for mid-week drinks at the American Embassy in Riyadh (by cordial invitation only, bar closes at 8pm). And for Jess… well this may take a little explaining.

 

Jess’s toothbrush is a sacred object. A holy shrine to privacy, if you wish. All too often, the pre-bed/ post-rise/ mid-morning ritual of toothbrushing in the Commaille household has been interrupted with Jess’s high-pitched squeals of utter disdain and disbelief at the sight of Brett sacrilegiously scrubbing away at his pearly whites with her toothbrush. Sometimes, if Brett gets himself together before Jess (also not uncommon), Jess may get to the bathroom to take part in her dental hygiene regimen only to be met by a dripping wet toothbrush, while Brett’s is bone dry.

 

These sins have been commonplace ever since, on the acquisition of our last toothbrushes, Brett refused to take the blue one (because “I always have the blue one”) and insisted on the green one. Needless to say, old habits die hard, and if them teeth are used to that old blue scrubber, there is little chance they will stay away from it.

 

Brett’s absence last week gave Jess a kind of respite, a truly orthodontic peace, knowing that her toothbrush was set apart for her exclusive use.

 

But, as we all know, all good things do come to an end. First night back home and Brett was happily scrubbing away with Jess’s toothbrush once again!

 

But this is not a tale of woe and sorrow. Oh no! Behind every trial we face, there is a lesson too valuable to ignore. Jess took action. Without saying a word (although if looks could spit, Brett would have needed a life jacket), she rushed her toothbrush to the dressing table and proceeded to paint it in Yardley Crushed Berry nail polish.

 

And that, folks, is what they mean by necessity being the mother of invention. At present an unusual calm rests in our bathroom – a sense of harmony, peace and dental well-being. The paint-job has worked beautifully. On more than one occasion Brett has stopped short realizing that he has grabbed the incorrect brush and thus avoided recommitting his serial offence.