While hanging out with completely normal people (something we try to do regularly to keep in touch with the other half), we somehow ended up discussing shampoo and other shower-related items. While the boys were discussing hunting or something else relevant to universe stability, Brenda and I were onto to more simplistic things: the poof…the loofa…the sponge. I love this thing. It makes, like, a million bubbles of fragrant goodness with zero effort! It exfoliates (We shed 40 pounds of skin in a lifetime, people…get it off in the shower before it ends up in your couch is all I’m sayin’. Ever wonder why your grandma’s furniture is so heavy? That’s a little science education fact for ya…on the house from your resident queen of random information.). It suds. It doesn’t mold. Again, I say I love it. I love it.
[overheard from the other side of the room]
my boy: Yeah, that thing is awesome.
other [skeptical] boy: Really?
my [Dutch] boy: Yeah! You put, like, a dime-size blob of soap on there and you can clean for hours! It makes the bottle of soap last for forever!
me: Hey…you said loofas were girly!
my boy: Well, yeah, but they are pretty cool.
me: So…you’ve used a loofa?
my boy: Yeah…the one in our shower.
me: You’ve used my loofa?
my boy: On occasion, yes, in fact I have. And, yes I think they’re cool. You caught me.
*realization begins to set in*
me: You’ve used my loofa…everywhere?
my boy [realization not setting in]: Yeah. You use it just like a washcloth, right? Scrub scrub scrub!
me: Well, I guess I’ll be buying me a new loofa. That one’s yours, ok?
Nothing is safe. Not. One. Thing.