Monday

It's freezing cold and dry. Really dry. Itchy, scratchy skin dry. So dry, Bird decides to use body lotion. Bird is a man of minimal products meaning no aftershave, no hair product, just shave cream, toothpaste, shampoo and soap.

Bird: Where do you keep your lotion?

Me: Under the sink.

Later he joins me at the breakfast counter.

Me: Did you find it?

Bird: Yep. Sorry, I used it all.

Me: It was a brand new bottle?

Bird: I was really itchy.

Me: Hmmpf

Bird: Why do women need so much froo froo stuff?

Me: Sigh.

After my shower I realize that Bird slathered himself from head to toe in $20 face cream.

Tuesday

Me: The BODY lotion is in a big blue bottle next to the small white bottle you used yesterday.

Bird: OK, thanks.

At the breakfast counter Bird is scratching away at his back.

Me: Did you find it?

Bird: No.

Bird believes that inanimate objects can and often do hide from him and dreams of a world where they would instantly appear when called like a loyal dog. Our fridge is full of stuff that 'hides' from Bird.

Me: Come on, I'll show you. It's a BIG BLUE BOTTLE.

Bird: I'm already dressed. Just forget it.

After my shower I take the big blue bottle and place it next to his shaving cream and tooth brush-- ON THE COUNTER, IN THE OPEN.

Wednesday

Bird joins me at breakfast smelling sweetly, too sweetly, but looking great in his suit. Bird has a big meeting today.

It occurs to me that the big blue lotion is unscented.

Me: Did you put on lotion?

Bird: Yes.

Me: How much?

Bird: Not much at all. That stuff is sticky. I don't know how you ladies get used to that crap.

Me: What did you use?

Bird: The big bottle next to the little bottle just like you said.

He's a bit annoyed by my questions. While he peanut butters his English muffin, I excuse myself to solve the mystery.

There is the blue bottle right next to the can of shave cream where I left it, where I was sure he couldn't miss it. I open the cabinet and next to my face cream is a large WHITE bottle of lavender body wash. Bird has rubbed body wash all over. I start to laugh and then remember my man sitting downstairs in his best suit, sticky and smelling like lavender. I return to the kitchen nervous about delivering the news. Bird is a smart and successful man. But WTF? Can't he read the label? This is not what I plan to ask him in the kitchen.

Me: Uhm, sweetie (meaning you're about to be angry, but remember how much I love you), you used my, uhm, my body wash.

In order to restore and maintain Bird's dignity, I won't reveal what happened next. Let's just say the calming effects of lavender don't work on everyone.

I'm desperate for one of those laugh so hard you cry and worry you'll wet your pants kind of laughs, but it will have to wait, because that shit ain't funny here just yet.