Comb Stealing - can kill !!

I love my things-old, ugly, torn however they are, they belong to me.And they should be exactly in the same position, exactly in the same state and the exact same spot where I leave them, as I leave them because again, they belong to me. Sometimes hubby tells me that I love these inanimate things more than living beings who actually live with me. Maybe its insane but I just don’t like to share my small, worthless things with just anybody and these would be things like hair brushes, skin lotions –all trivial stuff. I can share my feelings ,my life, my heart ,my thoughts, but not these little things.
And though I completely agree that spouses should complement each other for harmonious co-existence, but extreme complementing is also disastrous. The more I want to reserve my ‘things’ for myself, the more he pounces on any new stuff I buy, just for his love of novelty, for trying new things. And I always encourage him to buy new stuff for him whenever I buy for me, just to avoid the clash and the crash, but those encouragements are met with a very humble ‘No I don’t need anything’.
So, it happened that just this Sunday I bought a hair brush for myself-nothing fancy, just a regular ,most ordinary one. And I announced that no one should touch it because I can deal with pulling out the long hair from the bristles to keep it clean. But the messy entanglement of small hair of the dad and son is impossible to clean and I hate those pertinacious little strands on my brush. So, for the past three mornings, namely, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I combed my hair, copacetic and content with the clean brush and the fact that no one else had touched it.
And, today, this morning the lightning struck me and its the courtesy of my son that I am aware of what goes on behind my back. If it were not for these innocent tongues, I don’t know how many culprits and miscreants would have gotten away with just anything. So, today as I was getting him ready for school, when I came to combing the hair part with one hand firmly holding his chain, the child screamed-‘ I don’t like this comb, I like the one daddy combs my hair with.’
‘Which one?’, I asked, with my heart jumping in my mouth.
‘The new one that you just bought.’
There it was, my worst fear come true!!My own personal hairbrush had already been bestowed upon the honour of being the Family Hairbrush.
Its common news these days – Man kills wife, wife plots to kill husband – for money, for Mr/Ms X, for other reasons. For the money part, I am sure we never will have that much bounty that leads to a kill. As for Mr/Ms X, I am again sure that handling and dealing with one Mr/Ms is a handful, actually armsful for both of us. As for the third category, other reasons, comb stealing is a good enough reason for me to kill!!

Comments

  1. lovely Sara Lovely...
    "Personal Brush bestowed upon the title of family hair brush.."..

    Well i dont wish to share my comb because many skin n hair diseases can be transferred via such utilities..!

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  2. Better than my house. The school bus would be just few minutes away, and the brush(es) would not be traceable- nope, neither the red one, not green, and neither the black one, and at the last moment almost miraculously one is found on the book shelf and the story repeats itself. I cannot figure out how the damn inanimate thing seems to change its designated place in such creative and novel ways :)

    Good post.

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