Wednesday, July 01, 2009
It's not old, it's vintage.
Todd sliced his finger open pretty deeply on Sunday, while flying his new remote-control plane, and I gave him a tube of antibiotic ointment to put on it when he re-bandages it.
He came downstairs tonight and said, "I think we need a new tube of ointment. Guess how old this one is?"
I said I had no idea.
"If we had a kid that was born when this tube expired, the kid would be in high school now."
April 1995. How in the world did that tube sneak past my periodic medicine cabinets clean-outs--for fourteen years? If it expired in 1995, that must mean I bought it when we were practically newlyweds. That tube has moved at least five times with us! It's lived in three different states!
Todd wants to know if I'm trying to kill him and/or his finger. He also said, "This is very bloggable."
So I'm blogging about it.
If you come to my house with an ache or pain, and I offer you a Tylenol, ask to see the bottle first.