When my husband came home last night, he was wearing a lei. I said, “Hey, how was it?” and he said, “Oh, it was all right.” I turned to look him in the eye and he shrugged and said, “I feel like on Survivor when the winner returns from a reward. I don’t want to rub it in.”
Ah, well. That good, huh?
He reported that the dinner was fantastic. Salmon, tiny potatoes, steak of some sort, blah-blah-blah (I didn’t hear that part) and five desserts to chose from. The carrot cake was this high (and he spread his hands six inches apart), but he chose . . . I can’t remember. But I would have chosen creme brulee’ and eaten three bites. “I had egg whites and asparagus,” I told him, bidding for sympathy.
The conversation was terrific: college kids who actually turned to him (“the old guy” he called himself) and conversed. He didn’t even mention the view of the Puget Sound.
So, I finally crawled under the covers, eyes burning from wearing my contact lenses way too long. He was still reliving the night. And then abruptly, I said, “I think someone put soap on my toothbrush!” Which is clearly a ludicrous idea. Who would put soap on my toothbrush? At first I thought maybe the towel had a residual spray of cologne or something on it which I transferred to my mouth when I wiped my mouth after brushing my teeth.
But then, in a flash, I remembered that day I rubbed my own toothbrush on a bar of soap until it was foamy and then brushed my teeth. I was just a child, but I never forgot. That taste was soap!
So, when I said with wonder, “I think someone put soap on my toothbrush,” he said, “Oh! I did that!”
Hey, what? He launched into this story about the soap squirting from the dispenser onto my toothbrush (which I leave on the edge of the sink to dry) and how he thought to himself that he needed to rinse it off and then . . . poof! Vanished thoughts. He left it all soapy.
I jumped up and attempted to rinse the soap from my mouth, but really, it’s not possible. If only I had a taste of cream cheese frosting to cleanse my palate. That would do the trick! Alas, I went to sleep with the bitter taste of soap on my tongue–but laughter on my lips. For some reason, that “Oh, I did that!” amused me.
(I posted again on my ClubMom blog. Head on over and see. But first, click on that red ClubMom banner over there, sign up for a FREE membership and then go read my deep dark secret.)
Actual Unretouched Photo 
Times like THIS one, don’t you wish you had no sense of taste like me?!? LOL! I once started guzzling down a little container of milk at the school I worked at, only to realize it was so bad it was curdling and I couldn’t taste a thing! It made my co-worker gag all over the place at the thought of it, haha! The kids used to come in and hand me ‘hot’ candies and gums, trying to get a reaction out of me, and would stand in awe as I’d chew on it like it was nothing. But…ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh…I’d give just about ANYTHING to be able to eat and taste deep, rich chocolate or salsa or a crisp dill pickle. I don’t even remember what anything DOES taste like anymore. 😦
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Ack! Insult to injury. I know you didn’t see it that way, but there he is telling you all about the good time he had, and then you’re tasting soap in your mouth. Eeeuw.
How come you didn’t go with him?
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This comment is totally unrelated to this post (but, ick on the soap.)I thought of you today, and laughed hysterically because my son, who has been looking for one missing shoe for the last three days (and playing outside in barefeet because of the missing shoe) finally said to me, “I think I left my shoe at Ryan’s house.” I TOLD you about my son, didn’t I? Well? I’m still laughing. (BTW, Ryan lives over an hour’s drive away.)I think I’ll have to blog about it quickly and reference your post because, what the hey! It’s something🙂
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Throw it in the dish washer. That is the only thing that will get the soap out. Don’t ask me how I know that lol
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That’s one thing I am proud to say I’ve never done — brush my teeth with soap. Ewwww!!! Glad you could laugh it off…
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My husband does this, usually over the holiday, atending a luscuious free dinner while I stay at home with the kids. And then he talks about the free dinner for the next two weeks. And the too brush with soap. Cute. I am always wondering which kid dropped my toothbrush in the toilet or used it to clean which toy…
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Oh yuk!!!
I feel for you about the dinner. My husband gets lunch 2x a week at the clinic and it is always some sort of gourmet meal. Grr.
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