first world problems.
or: mental hygeine.
the high point of the day was a trip to the dollar store to buy a new tooth-brush. i know that sounds pretty pathetic but you gotta understand, well, ok.
be that as it may, there were several to choose from of all different shapes and sizes hangin in a neat row for my viewing pleasure. the one i chose looked cool: blue and white hard plastic, kinda thick handle with a rubber pick on one end, a slightly larger than normal brush on the other. it even had a small extra brush behind it, for those hard to get at places.
once i got home, i immediately and unceremoniously peeled away the packaging and trundled joyously off to my salle de bain... but the thing did not fit in my mouth! at first i couldn't bend my head around the fact that the brush couldn't bend its head into my mouth. i mean, who would make a tooth-brush too big for a mouth (?) and, just like donald trump's hands, the size of my mouth is "normal, good size, fine, slightly large actually." needless to say, i immediately returned the thing to the store. no, of course i didn't. i took my teeth out, some of 'em anyway, and brushed them over the sink. but, it aint right.
i know that sounds terribly pathetic, and i ask myself: how did i end up like this: living alone, away from all the action, in a tiny house in the back-woods of cold, wintery west quebec, with an oversized dental instrument (?) and the answer jumps immediately to my mind: i musta got pretty darn lucky, that's how.
as i sit in my favourite chair, shrouded in peace, a fire in the stove filling the room with its glow and warmth, a cup of coffee on the table beside me, i know i'm almost unreasonably fortunate. as i watch the snow gently falling, eyeing my heavy coat and boots waiting by the door, listening to a report about refugees unwelcome everywhere, i feel like i should really go buy a small toothbrush before the store closes for the night.
"too bad all the people who know how to run the country are driving taxi cabs or cutting hair." george burns.
the high point of the day was a trip to the dollar store to buy a new tooth-brush. i know that sounds pretty pathetic but you gotta understand, well, ok.
be that as it may, there were several to choose from of all different shapes and sizes hangin in a neat row for my viewing pleasure. the one i chose looked cool: blue and white hard plastic, kinda thick handle with a rubber pick on one end, a slightly larger than normal brush on the other. it even had a small extra brush behind it, for those hard to get at places.
once i got home, i immediately and unceremoniously peeled away the packaging and trundled joyously off to my salle de bain... but the thing did not fit in my mouth! at first i couldn't bend my head around the fact that the brush couldn't bend its head into my mouth. i mean, who would make a tooth-brush too big for a mouth (?) and, just like donald trump's hands, the size of my mouth is "normal, good size, fine, slightly large actually." needless to say, i immediately returned the thing to the store. no, of course i didn't. i took my teeth out, some of 'em anyway, and brushed them over the sink. but, it aint right.
i know that sounds terribly pathetic, and i ask myself: how did i end up like this: living alone, away from all the action, in a tiny house in the back-woods of cold, wintery west quebec, with an oversized dental instrument (?) and the answer jumps immediately to my mind: i musta got pretty darn lucky, that's how.
as i sit in my favourite chair, shrouded in peace, a fire in the stove filling the room with its glow and warmth, a cup of coffee on the table beside me, i know i'm almost unreasonably fortunate. as i watch the snow gently falling, eyeing my heavy coat and boots waiting by the door, listening to a report about refugees unwelcome everywhere, i feel like i should really go buy a small toothbrush before the store closes for the night.
"too bad all the people who know how to run the country are driving taxi cabs or cutting hair." george burns.
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