Toothpaste

Disclaimer: Schmoopiness factor may exceed tolerable limits.

So, toothpaste? you ask...

Thanks to Pitt's wonderful "cohabitation" friendly visitors policy and Duane's lack of roommate, I generally sleepover most weekends. And this, of course, involves brushing my teeth and since I don't generally pack my own toothpaste, I have to use Duane's.

Well, he has a serious toothpaste problem: He squeezes the tube in the entirely wrong way. Everyone knows you go from the bottom! Squishing it from the middle--oh the horrors, the horrors! So obviously, I take it upon myself to fix this toothpaste dibacle, which generally involves some good-natured teasing about my crazy girl OCD.

And thats where it gets good. -blushy- That invariably leads to joking about how he's going to have to have his own tube of toothpaste that is going to be hidden up high (where else?) so I can't get to it and fix it...and how he's going to squish my toothpaste tube and mess it up. Yeah, so its toothpaste but the not-so-hard-to-comprehend subtext says that the personal toothpaste tubes will be required when we're married and living together. And well, I just love when we randomly talk about stuff like that!

Also, I've recently been informed that his wallet will also be hidden so as to prevent my compulsive rearrangement of bills...but they must be in order!