Jeremy came to me recently, holding a bar of soap he had fished out of the trash can. (does he search the trash cans for things I've wrongfully thrown away? Honestly?) "Why is this is the trash?" he asked.
"It's a funny color," I said. "Something's obviously wrong with it." I wasn't looking at him, but I felt his eyes roll.
"It's SOAP!" he said. "You scrub it off and it's like it's a whole new bar of soap!"
"Fine," I said disinterestedly. I really wasn't all that passionate about the matter. We don't go through bars of soap very quickly, because I keep liquid body wash around. However, we have plenty of it in the cupboard, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that I like the idea of bar soap and tend to make purchasing decisions accordingly.
The next time I saw the oddly colored bar of soap, it was in the soap dish with the newer and normally colored (aka, simply better) bar of soap. And that was the last I saw of it. A few nights later I was waiting in bed for Jeremy to come to bed and he walked into our room from the bathroom and said, "You threw that bar of soap away again!"
This seemed rather unfair. His case was purely circumstantial, at best. "I did not!" I denied. "Then where is it?" he said, as if I'm some kind of Keeper of the Soap in this house.
"How should I know?" I said, still laying in bed.
"You really didn't throw it away?" he said. I could tell he was listening carefully. Our room was dark and he couldn't see my face. I'm a terrible liar and Jeremy always knows when I'm lying, but mostly by facial expressions.
"No, I didn't throw your soap away," I said firmly.
"How strange..." he said, finally believing me. He went back to the bathroom and stayed for a while.
When he came back I asked, "Been looking for the soap?"
"Yeah."
"Did you find it?"
"No."
Very mysterious. And no, I didn't do anything with the weird bar of soap. But if you ask me, we're probably better off without it. :)
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