Precious Commodity

The Scene: 9:30 PM. C getting ready for bed. d getting ready create nocturnal havoc in the basement.

C: d! d! (pause) d!

d: WHAT!?!

C: Are we out of dental floss?

d: Flashback to this morning. . .It happens in slow motion. . .Pulling out the last 3 measly inches of floss. . .Dropping it on the bathroom floor. . .And then attempting to use it anyway 'cause I couldn't find any more. "Yes. Sorry!"

C: Thump, thump, thump, bang, desk drawer slams. . .Sigh. "I'm going to run to Rite Aid before they close."

(This is clearly a case of a dental hygiene fanatic - if not worse).

d: "Wait!" (d, genius super wife springs into action. Pulling out exactly two Glide single use packs from her make-up bag.)

C: Smiles so big you'd think I had just offered him a week of gratuitous sex - with someone other than me.

d: Wisely gives C ONE and has not let the other out of sight. You can't trust a dental floss junkie with your final yard - no matter how much you might love them.