Every morning and every night, Bill brushes his teeth and spits into my sink. He doesn’t use water to rinse the toothpaste fuzz off his mouth like civilized people do; he wipes the minty froth onto my hand towel. I’ve put up with it because I love him but it’s raunchy.
The other day I caught him clipping his toenails into my sink.
“Dude, you’re grossing me out,” I said. “Fingernails and toenails don’t go in the sink, and they certainly don’t go in my sink. What’s your deal? We’ve lived in this house for over ten years and you can’t keep your nasty shit in your own sink.”
“Toenails can too go in the sink,” Bill said. “But I’m just having problems using my sink. I keep migrating over and using yours. I think we assigned them wrong in the very beginning. What say we trade sinks?”
So after fifteen years of marriage, we’re making a change. The shaving cream, razor and Scope will be on the right, and my favorite cup that holds my toothbrush is heading to the left, along with the zillions of skin cleansers and creams I require to look this devastatingly youthful. Under the cabinets, the tampons, cotton balls and VO5 are moving to the cabinet formerly inhabited by the Speed Stick, extra toilet paper, Irish Spring and Pert.
Switching bathroom sinks might sound mundane to some, but it’s made for a fun weekend so far. The romance of sorting and tossing outdated toiletries a deux was surpassed only by the fact we keep bumping into each other naked as we head for one sink, then switch to the other, in a tiny space. We’re treating it as the start of many scintillating changes in our relationship.
I figured I better put up pictures of this because don’t you love seeing what’s in people’s bathroom cabinets?
The glamorous side
The manly stuff
Two years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: In Which Bill Is Right