Peace of Mind

I recently spent north of $90 securing my AC unit in the window. This expense might seem excessive to some but my fellow neurotics recognized it as a bargain to gain some peace of mind.

Here are a few reasons why:

1 - My window faces the street
2 - I’m on the 3rd floor
3 - My AC unit weight about 50 pounds
4 - Several fault lines go through Brooklyn, probably
5 - Anything above a magnitude 4.0 would dislodge my AC unit
6 - Due to the earthquake my building would evacuate
7 - The evacuees would congregate around my building
8 - An aftershock would cause my AC unit to fall
9 - Right at the point of terminal velocity the unit would hit someone
10 - The cops would rush to the scene
11 - I would go into hiding
12 - People would demand I turn myself in
13 - I’d be captured by a tip from someone I thought was my friend
14 -  My trial would get heavy East Coast coverage
15 - My lawyer would botch the case
16 - I’d be put in prison
17 - In an effort to rehabilitate, I’d teach creative writing to my fellow inmates
18 - I’d misinterpret an inmate’s poem
19 - He shank me in the shower

The Case of the Missing Toothbrush

 

Today marks 24hrs since my toothbrush went missing, which means I can now file an official police report. I know the FBI usually handles cases involving wanton acts of bathroom theft but, evidently, there is a quota on how many report you can file in a week. But where else was I supposed to turn when I suspected my Laundromat of stealing a pair of socks?

Before I delve into the case further, I want to take some time to thank everyone for the outpouring of support I received. This has been a very trying time in my life and your kind thoughts help. But if you do have any details please refer them to the NYPD’s HT (Homicide and Toothbrush) hotline.

 The details of this unfortunate incident are murky at best. But after I came home and cleaned up my place things became a little clear.  As my bedtime quickly approached, I brushed my teeth and did my other pre-slumber rituals. I’d go into greater detail about what these rituals entail but my lawyer has advised against it since we are currently in binding arbitration with Nyquil. After my brushing was finished, I put my toothbrush back in its convenient sink-side holder. OR SO I THOUGHT!

 The next morning, eager to brush off a night full of mouth mysteries (they say you swallow like 8 spiders a year), I headed to my bathroom. But there was my toothbrush? I searched high. I searched low. I searched middle – which is far too often glossed over when seeking out missing property or playful children. Yet I could find no toothbrush.

 I resigned myself to defeat and opted to gargle some mouthwash. It’s a good temporary solution unless you have a dentist appointment that day or plan on consuming large quantities of orange juice. Hopefully it will appear somewhere, somehow. But until that happens, I guess I have to use one of my spare toothbrushes.