Pavlov's Toothbrush, aka Hubby Call out #1

So my hubby is fantastic. I mean, fan-fucking-tastic, I thank my lucky stars every day that I nabbed him. But that doesn't mean he doesn't drive me crazy - although I believe it's a contractual obligation in a marriage that your partner can and will make you kooky over their habits and pecularities.

And I've decided to start a series of on and off blog posts documenting my husband's kookiness. Why might I do this, you ask? Well, hubs and I were discussing my blog (a frequent topic, as I like to talk about it) and he admitted he still HAS NOT READ IT. Not one little entry. Admittedly, hubby is not much of a reader (I know - weird, right, I get woozy in bookstores from the love and I married someone who doesn't recreationally read!). But still - no fair. I told him I'd like him to read it and he said he doesn't need to read it because he lives it (a cute statement, cuter if it's not a line I told him from another author I read who's husband told her the same thing).

So I proposed this: I would write revealing stories about him on my blog until he read it. And as soon as he read it and told me what I wrote, I'd delete it if he'd like. But then he said there is nothing I could say about him that would be embarassing. Which he took back one minute later when I listed at least 3 things that he'd die if I revealed (and I of course promised him I had never intended to reveal those things anyway).

But know this, hubs. You're call out on more minor embarassments is coming. In fact, here is item 1: The Pavlovian Toothbrush.

When we lived in our apartment, it was pretty small and we could hear each other from the other rooms - on the phone, watching tv, etc. And I observed a strange phenomenon. No matter what he was doing at the time, if hubs heard the sound of me brushing my teeth before bed, he seemed to drop whatever he was doing to come and brush his teeth with me. I mean, literally, if I went to brush my teeth without telling him I was doing it, I could seriously count the seconds while I was brushing until he showed up in the bathroom. He could keep playing his video game, or watching tv or whatever. But no - the call of the toothbrush was too strong to resist - like Pavlov's dogs and the bell. But now that we've moved into the house, he can't always hear me when I go to brush my teeth. And so, sometimes, I brush alone. It's a strange feeling, like I am hiding something. But then I remember - brushing your teeth is not a partner activity. And so I brush, alone, even if I do, on rare occasions, miss the sound of him padding down the hall to brush with me.