Living at home

Living at home with parents (and sister) has some serious benefits. This fall I've had a bottomless supply of peaches, pears, cupcakes, rice crispy treats, and honeycrisp apples. If you don't know about the honeycrisp variety it's probably because they're too expensive for most people your age to buy. Living at home I also get to share stuff and borrow stuff like ties (dad has an amazing collection), cars (although only occasionally), and toothbrushes. Wait, toothbrushes?

A couple of times a week I brush my teeth upstairs, usually only if my sister, Gracie, is in the bathroom we share downstairs. Yesterday I finished brushing my teeth up there and I heard her run upstairs and ask me, "did you just use my toothbrush?" (I should mention at this point that there is only one toothbrush in the upstairs bathroom and it's mine). "Your toothbrush?" I asked as the clean feeling of recently brushed teeth was beginning to be replaced by grossness. "That's my toothbrush, I put it there when I came back from St. George four months ago!" she said. The grossness instantly spread from my mouth to my entire body. I wanted wash my mouth out with bleach. I quickly renounced ownership of the toothbrush and is was immediately placed in the dishwasher. On the list of things that should never be shared, toothbrushes are somewhere near the top. We had a good laugh and then Gracie started singing "the old family toothbrush."

"First it was mother's, then it was father's, then it was brother's, and now it is mine."