November 25, 2010
November 18, 2010
Husband rescues toothbrush
My toothbrush fell down the drain.
Most of you are probably thinking how ridiculous that statement is, but it’s true. Our bathroom sink doesn’t have a fancy stopper for the sink, so you can actually look down and see where the pipe veers off into the wall. I’ve brushed my teeth about 75 times in this apartment so far, and never had any trouble — or near drain experiences — until now.
Part of me wants to forget about proper dental care and go to bed. I’m already extremely tired, and reached my grumpy, irritated, sleepy mood already. (This is when Tyler has to wake me up after I have fallen asleep on the couch, and then coax me to go to bed. Otherwise, I wake up on the couch and I’m grumpy for still being there.)
So to solve my toothbrush dilemma, and handle the situation like an adult, I do the only thing I can do:
“Tyler, help me!”
He promptly gets out of bed, and assesses the situation by giggling at my plight. He of course asks how I managed to drop my toothbrush straight down the drain by accident, but I let him know that’s not going to help the task at hand.
He goes to the closet, finds a metal coat hanger, and bends it so he can hook my toothbrush. He solves my problem in less than two minutes. The coat hanger contraption isn’t thrown away because he said we’d probably need it later. I know he’s right, because I’m sure this won’t be the last time I drop something down that sink.
After cleaning my toothbrush, I finally begin brushing my teeth. As I scrub in circular movements across my canines and molars, I think about how I’d probably not be brushing my teeth if Tyler hadn’t rescued my red Oral-B. I know I would have left it there, bought another toothbrush, and figured out how to get it out in a few days.
I’m so happy he puts up with me.
Most of you are probably thinking how ridiculous that statement is, but it’s true. Our bathroom sink doesn’t have a fancy stopper for the sink, so you can actually look down and see where the pipe veers off into the wall. I’ve brushed my teeth about 75 times in this apartment so far, and never had any trouble — or near drain experiences — until now.
Part of me wants to forget about proper dental care and go to bed. I’m already extremely tired, and reached my grumpy, irritated, sleepy mood already. (This is when Tyler has to wake me up after I have fallen asleep on the couch, and then coax me to go to bed. Otherwise, I wake up on the couch and I’m grumpy for still being there.)
So to solve my toothbrush dilemma, and handle the situation like an adult, I do the only thing I can do:
“Tyler, help me!”
He promptly gets out of bed, and assesses the situation by giggling at my plight. He of course asks how I managed to drop my toothbrush straight down the drain by accident, but I let him know that’s not going to help the task at hand.
He goes to the closet, finds a metal coat hanger, and bends it so he can hook my toothbrush. He solves my problem in less than two minutes. The coat hanger contraption isn’t thrown away because he said we’d probably need it later. I know he’s right, because I’m sure this won’t be the last time I drop something down that sink.
After cleaning my toothbrush, I finally begin brushing my teeth. As I scrub in circular movements across my canines and molars, I think about how I’d probably not be brushing my teeth if Tyler hadn’t rescued my red Oral-B. I know I would have left it there, bought another toothbrush, and figured out how to get it out in a few days.
I’m so happy he puts up with me.
November 8, 2010
Death and Facebook
I just found out through Facebook that another one of my friends died. This is the second occurrence in the last four months.
Besides the obvious fact that I’m upset another person was taken suddenly without warning — I can’t help feeling strange about the late individual’s Facebook page being used as an online memorial.
It’s shocking to login to a time-killing social network site, and then find a family member posting your friend’s death as a status update. Is this going to become the new normal? When my time is up, will people go to my page and comment on my deceased status with an emoticon? Is Mark Zuckerberg coming up with a new setting for this trend as I’m typing this?
Friends and family are spread out around the country — and the world — more than they used to be. My generation is able to keep in touch with more people then ever before with a simple tweet, update, or blog post. Now when someone dies, we are able to grieve with everyone around the world at the same time. We don’t need to wait for the wake — we just login, post old pictures, retell memories, and comfort one another instantaneously. No longer will there be a need for a written obituary because there will be a living, evolving one online.
Maybe this will seem less eerie and impersonal to me as this becomes the new normal. But for now, I still prefer the old ways of celebrating a life.
Besides the obvious fact that I’m upset another person was taken suddenly without warning — I can’t help feeling strange about the late individual’s Facebook page being used as an online memorial.
It’s shocking to login to a time-killing social network site, and then find a family member posting your friend’s death as a status update. Is this going to become the new normal? When my time is up, will people go to my page and comment on my deceased status with an emoticon? Is Mark Zuckerberg coming up with a new setting for this trend as I’m typing this?
Friends and family are spread out around the country — and the world — more than they used to be. My generation is able to keep in touch with more people then ever before with a simple tweet, update, or blog post. Now when someone dies, we are able to grieve with everyone around the world at the same time. We don’t need to wait for the wake — we just login, post old pictures, retell memories, and comfort one another instantaneously. No longer will there be a need for a written obituary because there will be a living, evolving one online.
Maybe this will seem less eerie and impersonal to me as this becomes the new normal. But for now, I still prefer the old ways of celebrating a life.
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