Where Is My Hairbrush?

I was reading one of the "How To" books for idiots not long ago, about keeping your house clean.  It was laid all out for me like I was a five year old.  I still found it a little difficult to follow, but some things managed to stick in my cluttered gray space. It had things in it like "take your shoes off where you want to find them tomorrow".  That works for me, except I can never decide if I want to find them in the bathroom, beside my bed, by my chair in the living room, by the front door....you get the picture? 

Well, anyhoo, one thing that happens in my house a lot, and just drives me batty(er) is that I can never find my hairbrush.  I get out of the shower and after the ten minute search for clean clean undies I'm already worn out.  I want my brush on the counter by the sink.  Is that too much to ask? 

I have two daughters, so the answer to that is yes.  Let me be clear here.  I have bought my darling angels hairbrushes.  I have bought them enough brushes for them to have one for every day of the week, each.  But no, they must have mine.  Mine seems to hold an allure that theirs does not possess, even though I've gone so far as to by them fancy ones from Walmart, and mine comes from Dollar Tree.  I live on a budget, all right?!  Walmart is fancy for this house.

So back to the Idiot Book.  The author of that book must have borrowed my two girls, because she handcuffed her brush to her sink.  Yes, she did.  It got me to thinking.  I don't like the idea of tying my brush to the sink so much, but I had a better idea. 

I sat my lovely girls down and looked them straight in their conniving little eyes.  "Today,"  I said,  "We start a new rule.  From now on, if I get out of the shower, and I don't have a brush ready and waiting for me, I am going to walk butt naked through this house until I find one.  Is that clear?"

One pair of ice blue eyes and one pair of chocolate brown eyes stared at me in horror.  The little mouths under the eyes dropped open in perfect "oh's". 

"You wouldn't really make us look at that, would you?"  whispered Ainsley.

"Yes, I would."

"That's just..."  Scotlyn took a deep breath and shuddered, "disturbing."

"Then I suggest you find my hairbrush and leave it in my bathroom.  What say?"

They nodded frantically and went searching.  By the time they were done, there were eight brushes in my sink.  They nervously asked if that would be enough. 

I had no idea that could work so well. 

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You realize, of course, that it didn't last, right?  Just last week, there was no hairbrush to be seen.  I noticed before I got in the shower. 

I hollered out the door, "If I ain't go a brush in here by the time I get out of the shower, I'm coming out in my birthday suit!"  I was kind of looking forward to this, because this was a fun game. I hadn't grossed my kids out this bad since I informed Ainsley, when she was four, that when she was a baby she drank milk from mommy's breasts.  And when I told them where babies came from, but they didn't believe me, so that didn't really count.

I was in the shower when the first brush zinged across the floor and pinged off the tub.  I opened the shower door just in time to see two more be slid under the bathroom door, and then after a pause, my horse's mane and tail brush was slipped through. 

I think they believe me now.