I can’t believe I have been remiss in telling this story; this occurred back when I first started my job, and I just remembered it this morning.
On the afternoon of my first day at work, Caitlin and I were going with some coworkers to watch the Wizards’ game from the company box. However, we first planned to stop at my apartment to change clothes and freshen up. Upon arriving at home, Caitlin immediately began getting ready for the evening out, while I attended to the dogs. She is more than familiar with my apartment, and uses my makeup and other products as needed, which is her right as my oldest and most beloved companion.
I finished caring for the dogs and joined Caitlin in the bathroom, at which point she remarked, “You have the oddest tweezers.”
My tweezers could not be more normal and ordinary. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” she began, “they’re like scissors and they don’t really work.”
I was completely perplexed. My tweezers are nothing like scissors. “What do you mean? What ‘tweezers’ did you use?”
She began to look concerned, and pulled open the drawer where I do not keep my tweezers. From a small plastic bag that also contained a nail file, a cuticle stick, and a pair of fingernail clippers, she pulled the cuticle trimmers that are used for trimming dead skin from around your nails. I use them specifically when giving myself a pedicure.
I immediately dissolved into hysterical giggles. She looked appalled and moaned, “DON’T tell me where you use these. Oh, that’s disgusting. EW.”
Of course, I relished telling her in great detail exactly what purpose they served. She shoved the whole bag back into the drawer, slammed it shut, and snapped, “I DON’T want to talk about this anymore.”