Brush With Death

I've mentioned before how my wife is the Enemy of Routine. And also how we like to share.

But it has officially gone to far.

She used my toothbrush.

And, honestly? That isn't a big deal. We do that all the time on vacations and when role playing about being a naughty dentist...

...but by using my toothbrush, she forced me into a terrible decision:

I walk into the bathroom, notice that there are two toothbrushes - mine, which has just been used, and hers.

Which do I use?

Do I use mine? Even though it is still wet from having been used by her?

Do I use hers? Even though she eats disgusting things like carrots?

What kinds of germs are toothbrush germs? Are they fresh and short-term - waiting on the newly wettened bristles of my own dear toothbrush?

Or do they fester after months of use - building strength and organizing like an army of food bits and morning breath?

And that is just too much thinking first thing in the morning. I want the first question I answer in the morning to be, "How handsome is too handsome, and have I crossed that line?" - not risking mouth-death over the wrong choice of toothbrush.

After contemplation, I decided to use her toothbrush.

But the whole situation left a bad taste in my mouth.