C.S.I. Bathroom

Posted: June 23, 2013 in Family, Humour
Tags: , , , , , , ,


It lays there, unobtrusively taking up a little slice of space on the floor. As it spends its days, whiling away the hours, I wonder if it is sad. Does it feel neglected? The endless toilet flushing, teeth being brushed, dogs sniffing at it while it is helpless to move on its own… the following story is not for the faint of heart, yet is a cautionary tale, and one which I’m sure many families share.

About three weeks ago, a toothbrush which had yet to be used was dropped to the floor in the washroom beside our kitchen. When I first saw it, my inclination was to pick it up. But not this time, I said to myself. Too often, we pass over a sock, a piece of paper, or any number of small items that get left on the floor. I usually pick these up, as does Anne. We try to show the kids that they need to do this too, and truly, they are pretty good at it. But this was the proverbial ‘line in the sand’. Someone had dropped this toothbrush. And it wasn’t me. So that ‘someone else’ is going to have to pick it up.

I thought for sure ‘someone’ would notice it in the first few days. Its bright orange and green colours certainly clashed with our tile floors. You could, I would imagine, see it from space, were the conditions just right. I even named it: Toothy McPhee. Its proximity to the toilet pretty much guaranteed that it should be noticed… and yet, apparently, it was not.

As time has passed, there has been a growing uncomfortable silence amongst us. The floors got cleaned as usual, and yet the toothbrush remained. Hmmmm. Other items in the house were picked up, stowed away, and recycled to whatever location they should be. Yet Toothy McPhee stayed where it originally was dropped.

This was beginning to be a lot like a high-stakes game of poker. We all waited for someone else to blink, to perhaps break into a sweat, to at least acknowledge Toothy’s presence, thus presenting an opening that we could exploit, and move forward. But it just wasn’t happening. Obviously, something had to be done.

I bought little orange road cones, play ones from Fisher-Price, and when nobody was looking, placed them around the toothbrush. This HAD to catch someone’s attention. It didn’t. Then, I added little flashing lights…still nothing. Finally, tiny yellow police tape was added to make it even more dramatic, kind of our own little ‘CSI Sturgeon Falls’ vibe going on. And yet, my family carried on as if all was normal, as if it was just another day in the Gingras household.

Clearly, we needed an intervention. Since nobody seemed to want to own up to Toothy’s dilemma, we needed a disinterested third-party to bring it up so that we could confront this situation in the light of day, in all its glory. I had to find someone who could do this while not looking like it was a set up. I schemed. I plotted. And just when I thought I had a cast-iron plan set up, the unthinkable happened.

I came home, bent on setting up my masterpiece of a plan, when I say that Toothy was gone. As were the cones, the tape, and the flashing lights. All three other people in my house were present, yet curiously, were silent about the subject. I also had to remain silent, lest I admit to having noticed Toothy myself.

And so, the mystery went away, without ever having found the culprit. I spent the rest of the day and evening puzzling over just who had done it. By the time I started up the stairs to go to bed, I felt foolish. ‘What was the big deal?’ I asked myself. In the end, it really doesn’t matter. We’ll just have to let this one go.

And then, as I arrived in my room, and the cones, the police tape, the flashing lights, and good old Toothy McPhee were placed exactly the way they had been, smack dab on my spot in the bed. And as I looked at my kids and my wife, they with their blank looks of innocence, I realized that ‘someone’ was a much better player than I. Well played, Gingras family…..well played.

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