Lonely Toothbrushes and Unused Pillows
Once, when I was still married, my wife and I went out to eat dinner in Glendale. After eating, we strolled down a busy city street and listened to a trio of musicians performing in the street.
We liked them a lot and spent $10 for their CD. After returning home, we used to play the CD a lot because the lyrics were really good and the musicianship was as well. There was one particular song we both liked about a lover's breakup that mentioned how going into the bathroom and seeing a lonely toothbrush sitting on the counter kept reminding a sad young man of what he had lost in the break-up.
Well, one day my wife left me too. Then every time I entered the bathroom, I would see my toothbrush sitting there by its lonesome self reminding me of what I had lost.
So, feeling rather cheeky, I went out and bought another toothbrush.
But in my haste to fix things, I failed to recognize the fact that the newly purchased toothbrush was a male toothbrush. So, instead of reminding me about my loss, the two toothbrushes reminded me daily that you can't go out and purchase happiness, that money cannot heal a broken heart, and that life's most powerful lessons come in small packages.
One day, I tossed away the old toothbrush and started using the new one. Right away I felt better. I looked in the mirror and saw that I was brushing my teeth with a great big smile on my face. My eyes lit up as I shaved and life was suddenly beautiful again.
Then I walked jauntily into my bedroom whistling and noticed the second pillow on my queen bed.
I mumbled the word, "Fuck," to no one in particular as I was realizing that there would be nothing short of blinding myself like Oedipus to keep from bumping into the broken pieces of my past, and that life is a lot like that weird friend who tells you jokes no one else thinks are funny.