How I lost my toothbrush

and gave up finding it in the end.

I lost my toothbrush. I really thought that this was an impossible feat but it happened anyway. The last time I saw it, the toothbrush was lying beside me innocently on the desk while I scrambled to complete last minute work. The result of persistent procrastination. By the very next morning, it disappeared. My object of crude reminder to stop work and get on with personal hygiene was gone. My eyes were beginning to water and my back hurts from sitting down too long. Sore wrists agitate me and whatever report I was typing out rather vigilantly at first, vaporised upon closer examination.

(The quality plummeted from paragraph to paragraphs.)

So why did I continue? I should have just took the damn toothbrush, brushed whatever plaque off my teeth and gone to sleep. I would have at least felt remotely pleased with getting some things right, like well-polished teeth which I also floss meticulously every day.

Obviously, the night had other plans for me. The mind, no matter how brilliant can only function with a spirited body. I was pretty sure I had neither spirit nor brilliance by in the morning and if I did, they have left to find another body to inhabit. I could feel decay spread within my mouth and I stared at the toothpaste impotently.

Things like toothbrushes should never be allowed to disappear. Life is busy enough already for anyone to be hunting down toothbrushes. These are objects of certainty. Like clothes, hangers and cups.