toothbrush drama

Last night after we had climbed into bed, we heard a small noise. Bang, plop. David started swearing, followed by "Oh no, not again! I can't believe this!"

The tone of his voice was such that I imagined some catastrophe. Had Mickey gotten into something dangerous?

I asked, with some urgency, "What happened?"

He replied, "My toothbrush fell in the toilet again."

Our toothbrushes are stored above the sink in wall-mounted holes. However, with modern day toothbrushes having fat, plush rubber grips, we have to jam the end of the handle into the hole. Recently, David's toothbrush has picked up the new extracurricular activity of cliff diving off of the wall into the toilet bowl, with a clean richochet off the tank. It completes this with remarkable accuracy. The latest dive is the third time in the last two weeks. Mine has tried the same feat once or twice, but has yet to find its mark.

I suggested to David, "If this is happening so often that you now recognize the event by sound alone, perhaps it is time to revise our toothbrush storage strategy."

He agreed.