Sunday 16 August 2015

#116 Mouthwash

"Late notice but fancy a pint? I'll be at the Nell Gwynne at 18:15". It was about twenty to seven on Saturday and I was lain on the sofa as always. The fun of dating comes partly from the uncertainty. Sometimes she'll cancel. Sometimes it'll just be a regular date and sometimes it'll turn into the kind of night where all you're capable of doing the next day is lounging around eating cereal and blogging about the ingredients of butter. Until about twenty to seven.

I was starting to feel like a beer so I told John I'd meet him in about an hour. I got up, checked the bus times, threw on some jeans, switched Maria to flight mode to save some battery, brushed my teeth, grabbed a biro and headed out the door.

As I walked, I wondered whether regular mouthwash would have cleaned my mouth any better than the mixture of residual toothpaste and water that was swirling around in there. I rounded the corner before the bus stop, spitting the rinse out into the square of dirt surrounding the pavement tree. There's always time to gargle.

No comments