Another Confession- I'm a Toothbrush Toucher

Sometimes I just feel like confessing, or venting, or doing a little bit of both at the same time. Today is one of those days apparently.

I'm a proud germ-a-phobe, and no, this is not part of the confession. I'll proudly wave my germ-a-phobe flag until the day that I die. True story, proud of it. Germs are not my homeboy. I have more rules about hand washing, hygiene, cooking procedures, etc...than any one person should, but I'm honestly okay with that.

Where my confession begins and ends today is in our medicine cabinet. More specifically, my toothbrush. For some reason my toothbrush feels wet more than I'd like it to, which leads to me a place of recent paranoia.

1. Either someone is using my toothbrush, by mistake, of course, OR...
2. Someone is wetting it on purpose to get under my phobic skin. And seeing as how Piggy isn't tall enough to pull a prank on momma, that only leaves one person (a-hem) OR...
3. We have a toothbrush ghost. A single ghost who haunts our medicine cabinet just to wet the green brush a few times a day.

Hmmm... The hubs swears it's not him. And trust me, I ask. I blame part of my paranoia on my mother. In high school, over a week span or so, I kept noticing that my toothbrush was wet when I went to use it. Finally (not sure why it took me so long to ask around a bit) I had a conversation with my mom that went a little like this:

Me- Hey mom, what color is your toothbrush?
Mom- Blue. Why?
Me- Ummmm, because YOUR TOOTHBRUSH IS RED!!!!!!!!!! MINE IS BLUE!!!!! GROSS, I'M GOING TO PUKE! Insert dry-heave (if you know me, dry-heaving occurs more than I'd like to admit thanks to my many phobias).
Mom- Oh, Sorry. (all nonchalant like while I'm dry-heaving)

Sharing toothbrushes is not one of my spiritual gifts. I don't care how much I love you. You're gonna have to get your own brush. No, seriously.

So how does one navigate through a toothbrush crisis haunting? I touch my tooth brush every morning and night and most days at lunch before it ever touches my mouth, you know, to check the moisture levels.

And for the confession component of this little story, I touch the hubs brush as well. He accuses me of being a "toothbrush toucher", which is apparently a semi-serious offense in his book, but hey, I have to know what I'm in for. If mine is wet and his is dry, I NEED to have that knowledge so that I can grill him on exactly what color he believes his brush to be. If my mom can get confused, so can a husband. And "I promise to allow you to use my toothbrush" was NOT included in our vows. I will love you to death and back, in rich and poor moments, and through any serious illness that comes our way, but you abusing my toothbrush was not something I agreed to in front of God and family.

So to my hubs, I apologize for being a daily toothbrush toucher. I can assure you, however, that thanks to my case of minor OCD, I scrub my hands with soap and hot water before I get to touchin'.

And just for the record, my toothbrush is GREEN, mom. Just in case you ever visit and get confused.

GREEN, and most likely wet. Gagggggggggggggggg.

Author's note- I should've known better than to post this one. My toothbrush was SOAKED last night when I went to use it. This means war!