The spousal unit was brushing his teeth at the bathroom sink this morning when I entered and told him our personal Homeland Security Advisory System was issuing a Threat Condition Elevated warning.

I told him I had irrefutable intelligence reports that a large methane bomb would be going off shortly in that room and he would be well advised to vacate it.

Living with someone who eats a diet high in fruit, vegetables and fiber is not for sissies.

He finished brushing his teeth in the kitchen sink while I scientifically proved that despite what you might think, most plastics can withstand impressive methane levels. There's some question about the shower curtain, but I attribute that damage to a new anti-mildew spray I bought last week.

Mission accomplished, I washed my hands and then reached over to pick up my toothbrush.

It was gone.

"What happened to the purple toothbrush?" I asked the spousal unit.

He stopped in mid-brush and turned to face me, the corners of his mouth outlined in that oh so sexy white foam a vigourous brushing makes possible. Methane bombs, foaming at the mouth--who says that long marriages aren't capable of sustaining romance? Huh? HUH?

"The purple brush is mine. Yours is blue," he said. Then his face contorted with disgust as he registered the full import of my words.

"Omigawd, don't tell me you've been using my toothbrush. EWWWWWWWWWWW!!!"

I couldn't believe what I was seeing and hearing. This is the man with whom I've been playing the well-respected Canadian sport of tongue hockey for over 30 years now. We have exchanged mass quantities bodily secretions in the course of all those years of marital duties.

And NOW he's upset because I may have used his toothbrush?

Oh puh-LEESE.

I mentioned those very points to him and then told him to get a grip on himself. We both rolled our eyes at each other, each firmly convinced that the other had completely lost all perspective and was only holding onto reality by the tips of their fingernails.

Then I realized that there was no way I could have helped myself, that the toothbrush mix-up was inevitable. It was all HIS fault for choosing a purple toothbrush.

See, a hormonal change sweeps over women in their late 40's, early 50's. No, I'm not speaking about menopause. I'm speaking about our sudden, overwhelming attraction to the colour purple. Women who before only dressed in earth tones, suddenly begin to wear purple in all its many shadings.

We don't exactly get the hots for Barney, but we grow inexplicably fond of him.

(The lifelong attraction of The Artist Currently Known As Prince to the colour purple raises profound and unsettling age and gender questions. However, that would be a digression and as my three loyal readers well know, I'm nothing if not a linear thinker. Thus, we won't be mentioning that now.)

As I see it, I'm an innocent victim. If he had been in touch with my Inner Middle-Aged Woman, the spousal unit would have KNOWN that I would have been irresistibly drawn to that purple toothbrush and that a toothbrush mix-up was inevitable.

In other words, it's all his fault it happened in the first place.

I think we can all agree, too, that if he was going to die from my cooties he would have died a long, long time ago.

In other words, he was completely unreasonable and ewwwwwwwing at me was totally unjustified.

I apologized despite the fact that deep in my heart I know I am an innocent victim of circumstances beyond my control. I promised that it would never happen again, that forevermore I will respect the sanctity of the purple toothbrush.

Sometimes, for the sake of peace in the household, you just have to swallow your pride.

But I'm telling you now, next time I get irrefutable intelligence involving a methane bomb threat?

He's on his own, eh.

--Marn

P.S.--The International Cavorting Day Hall of Fame is open. You, too, could be part of an institution that's just like the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame except that it doesn't involve music, Ohio, talent or an actual building.

Otherwise, they are remarkably alike.

Celebrate the notion that we should all have one day in our lives when we are free to celebrate a jolt of spontaneous happiness.

Post a button or post a link to the cavorting site and become enshrined! See yourself right up there on the screen!

Make a rubbing of your name!

Oh. Wait. Maybe that last bit wouldn't work. Nevermind that part, 'kay?

Today there is no inductee into the Hall o' Fame. No one. I feel deeply bereft.

The first ten cavorters who entered the Hall of Fame I have dubbed The Mothers And Fathers of Cavorting. Don't worry, this does not involve messy blood tests, paternity cases OR child support. However, each time I update, I will feature one of them.

Cavorting has a large, loving, extended family of aunts and uncles, too, though, and it would be just wrong not to celebrate their wonderfulness, too.

And now, can I have a drum-roll, please, for Today's Cavorting Aunt's and Uncles: