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A Hex Key?
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I'm cleaning the bathroom cabinet and finding the usual stuff that hasn't seen the light of day in many, many moons. Or many seasons, for that matter. Some of it is fairly immortal--bottles of alcohol and tubes of toothpaste, for example.
Other stuff is way past the "use by" date OTC medicine which needs to be disposed of appropriately.
An urban anthropologist would have a field day, though, especially if she minored in psychology, trying to interpret the person who lives here...
I have more toothpaste than I'll ever use in a decade, at the very least. Did I just pick up toothpaste every time I went to the pharmacy and was shopping for something else? And along with the purchased toothpastes are the free toothpaste samples contributed by my dentist.
Safety pins. I must, at one time and again at another, have thought that every garment in my wardrobe was going to fall apart at the seams simultaneously and I had to be ready with safety pins for in-the-moment repairs. Or something. There are enough safety pins to supply the fleet.
I pride myself (or at least I did until this morning's foray into the medicine chest) that I have just the minimum of beauty supplies: a couple of lipsticks, some concealer for blemishes, an eyebrow/eyeliner pencil. Well, get over that one in a hurry, because obviously I've never discarded a beauty item that might possibly have another swipe left in the bottle. What a waste of space.
And so it goes. A student of urban anthropology might conclude that I obsessively brush and floss, then spend hours decorating my face. And that I'm terrified of holes in the seams. Just shows you how detritus can mislead.
By day's end I will have sorted and tossed and earned myself another hour or two of quiet reading time. And now back to the bathroom project...
OMG did you see all those old, curled up bandaids? Who even knew they were there in back of the alcohol? Yikes!
And what in blazes is a hex key doing in the bathroom cabinet? There is no lock in the bathroom that uses a hex key. Sometimes I wonder...poltergeists?
Other stuff is way past the "use by" date OTC medicine which needs to be disposed of appropriately.
An urban anthropologist would have a field day, though, especially if she minored in psychology, trying to interpret the person who lives here...
I have more toothpaste than I'll ever use in a decade, at the very least. Did I just pick up toothpaste every time I went to the pharmacy and was shopping for something else? And along with the purchased toothpastes are the free toothpaste samples contributed by my dentist.
Safety pins. I must, at one time and again at another, have thought that every garment in my wardrobe was going to fall apart at the seams simultaneously and I had to be ready with safety pins for in-the-moment repairs. Or something. There are enough safety pins to supply the fleet.
I pride myself (or at least I did until this morning's foray into the medicine chest) that I have just the minimum of beauty supplies: a couple of lipsticks, some concealer for blemishes, an eyebrow/eyeliner pencil. Well, get over that one in a hurry, because obviously I've never discarded a beauty item that might possibly have another swipe left in the bottle. What a waste of space.
And so it goes. A student of urban anthropology might conclude that I obsessively brush and floss, then spend hours decorating my face. And that I'm terrified of holes in the seams. Just shows you how detritus can mislead.
By day's end I will have sorted and tossed and earned myself another hour or two of quiet reading time. And now back to the bathroom project...
OMG did you see all those old, curled up bandaids? Who even knew they were there in back of the alcohol? Yikes!
And what in blazes is a hex key doing in the bathroom cabinet? There is no lock in the bathroom that uses a hex key. Sometimes I wonder...poltergeists?
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