The Borrower

I am a bit perturbed with Farmer H. I know, you say, "How uncharacteristic of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom!"

For a while now, I have been thinking that he's using my razor in the shower. It's a big walk-in shower, with sliding doors. We lay things on top of that door-framey thing. No shower caddy for us. There's a little tube of conditioner, two razors, and Farmer H's toothpaste and toothbrush, because he can't brush over the sink like a normal person.

Last week I got out a new razor. They're the plastic disposable ones, in different colors. The package is stored in the top right drawer of the sink cabinet dealybobber. I'm drawing a blank on what that's called right now. The word divinity popped into my head, but I know that's the white fudge people make at Christmas that is so sweet it makes my teeth hurt to think about it. Anyway, it's not like there's a razor shortage around the Mansion. And besides, Farmer H has a mustache and a goatee kind of thing going on, so it's not like he needs a razor all that much.

So anyway...last week I got out a new razor. And after a few days, it seemed kind of dull. Duller than a new razor should be. A new razor should still be nicking and drawing blood if you aren't careful with it. And mine seemed to be not doing its razorly job very well. I looked at Farmer H's razor, an entirely different color, parked beside his toothbrush. It was not wet. Since Farmer H had left for work a couple hours previous, I thought maybe it had dried. But to set a trap, I placed my old-new razor with the end on a little mark on the metal of the door frame.

The next day, my razor was still on the mark. Farmer H's razor was still dry. But the day after that, oh ho! My razor was not lined up on that mark, and it had water droplets on it. So of course I went to the drawer and got out a NEW razor, pink instead of purple, and put it away in the medicine cabinet when I was done. And put the old-new purple razor back on the mark. Two days later, it was moved again.

I asked Farmer H if he had been using my razor. "Well, only on my beard."

That meant that I had to lecture him on hygiene and inquire as to WHY he thought he could use my razor at will. "Oh, that's nothing. So I used your razor. I don't have one." Let the record show that at no time did he bother to throw away his used-up razor. He left it by his toothbrush. As a decoy, I'm thinking. And he used mine. Because he was too goshdarn lazy to get a new razor out of the drawer.

I asked him, perhaps a bit sarcastically, "What's next, you're going to use my toothbrush to scrub your butt?" And he said, "There's an idea."

Now I have to hide my toothbrush.