I've been denying a certain death since Thanksgiving. More of a missing persons case, if you will. I've refused to believe it's really true, to face the reality of it and the impact it will have on my life. Who, or what, is missing and/or dead?
My brush.
The brush I've had since I was 12. Maybe 13. The best brush in the world. It was a wooden paddle brush from The Body Shop. It traveled with me to Phoenix for Thanksgiving and the wedding, and I haven't seen it since. Nobody claims to have seen it or found it, and I know it didn't travel home with me. The only thing I can think of is someone swiped it from my suitcase at the airport. Um...gross?
I held out as long as I could before replacing it. But I couldn't stand using the dinky cheapie Conair brush any longer. So I bought a new one at The Body Shop yesterday.
Sure, it looks like the other one, but it does not feel like it. It feels cheaper, lighter, less durable. My old brush didn't care if I left it sitting in a pool of water, it recovered perfectly. Will this one do the same?
I know I am being overdramatic about something silly. Surely there are some ladies out there who feel equally about their hairbrush? If no ladies, I know Larry the Cucumber feels the same.
Unlike Larry, I do have hair. But perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from Larry? If someone did feel the need to take my brush because they needed it more, then I do hope that my brush offers them the same amount of pleasure that it gave me.
Take care, oh, my hairbrush.
2 comments:
Hey, I still have a purple hair pick I bought when I was 18. I still love it. I hope I never lose it. It will still be around even after the cockroaches bite it.
:-)
Every time I see Veggietales DVDs at the store I think back to all the silly songs you had on your computer in college. I think the cheeseburger song is my favorite.
Oh, and sorry about your loss.
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