I am late for a divorce summit meeting with the other party and our lawyers.  I have come back from a 20 mile bike ride with iPod blaring, designed to clear my head and settle me for an unsettling situation. 

Stepping out of the shower, I realize my mouth is dry and tacky.  I rationalize it is from lack of sufficient water during the bike ride and figure brushing my teeth won’t hurt.

I am at the end of the tube.  At that point where you squeeze and squeeze against the end cap to extract enough to make a difference.  Ultra-Brite.  Seems it is no longer marketed akin to Old Spice Original Scent Body Wash that I can’t find anywhere, either.  At least Old Spice issued a warning shot to those advocates of the product.  Its marketing blurb on the back said something to the effect that “If your grandfather didn’t smell like this you wouldn’t be here.”  (I’m serious.  If you find the product, read the back label.  And mail me some, please.)

So that is going through my head as I realize I will have to give up the search for Ultra-Brite and find a different brand.  I was turned onto Ultra-Brite by my college roommate.  Great way to scrub off the little sweaters knit by the gremlins unleashed on your body by excessive alcohol intake.  Early stage pressure washing.

So the effort to extract the last Ultra-Brite remnants an exercise in futility, I spy another tube sitting on the counter I assume to be my daughter’s toothpaste.  I hope it to be so, because no Ultra-Brite has been applied to her sweater-free teeth.

Time is of the essence, I grab the tube and apply it to the brush, shoving it into my mouth.  I fear tasting something hideous like bubble gum as I take the first swipe across my teeth.

“Hmm … creamier than most toothpastes, what the hell is this stuff?” I think.

Before I can carry on that errant thought in the rushed brushing before the impending thrashing, my taste buds explode sending SOS alerts to the over active, addled brain  during the pass back across the teeth to CEASE AND DESIST IMMEDIATELY!

“What the hell is this, and why is my daughter putting this shit in her mouth?” I think to myself after the red alert sent from my mouth slams into my skull like Wile E. Coyote on an Acme Rocket hitting a mountain.

I involuntarily spit the toothbrush into the sink and grab the tube lain upside down with the small lettering facing me that I could not read anyway due to not having my glasses on stepping out of the shower.

I turn it over with trepidation.

Hyrdo-cortisone cream.

I brushed my teeth with Hyrdo-cortisone cream.

At least my teeth won’t get exzema, I think… and what the hell has my daughter been using to brush HER teeth all these weeks?

I brushed, gargled, brushed, gargled in rapid fire succession and brought a large bottle of water for the meeting.

 It also gave me an ice breaker before the emotional and financial onslaught.  I also felt like I was talking like Mr. Ed with tongue flapping during the damn meeting given the after taste of hydro-cortisone cream lingering in my mouth as said mouth kept sending messages to my brain in a withering tone that simply said.  "You idiot."  And all my brain could send back to my mouth was the humble response of, "You make a valid point."

I mean, if you can’t laugh at yourself, just who can you laugh at?

And I will just assume you are laughing with me on this one, while also pretty sure you are laughing at me. 

I mean, I totally understand.  I am doing the same thing.