Tooth Be Told

Over the past few years, I’ve had a real soft spot for comic novels by British women published between 1950 and 1990.

Yes, this will come back to the toothbrushes, I promise.

Anyway, about the novels. They’re mostly short. They’re funny in a dry way. And the characters are often delightfully ridiculous.

One trope in particular that I’ve enjoyed: the wealthy noble who has fallen on tough times but fails to admit as much.

They insist upon remaining in their grand homes as they fall into disrepair. They hemorrhage household staff, but keep a chauffeur on the payroll, even though the car is a dusty old jalopy. Their dinner parties grow sadder, but they don’t stop throwing them, and their appearances at events draw more and more mockery, but they continue to show up, in order to “keep up appearances.”

The situation has always seemed funny to me. Or they did… until I experienced it myself. Except on the micro level.

Here’s where the toothbrushes come in.

You see, I purchased a pair of nice sonic toothbrushes from Meh some time ago, one for me and one for my wife. Not these ones, but the offering of a far more reputable toothbrush brand. Fancy ones, I mean. It was a great deal, and I imagine if you were to ask my dentist, he would say that the investment has had a measurable impact on my dental health.

Well, one of the pair shorted out after a few years. Luckily, there was another Meh sale within a couple weeks, so I didn’t need to wallow long in the non-sonic depths of the analog handouts you get after a cleaning.

But now the other half of the original pair is clearly on its last leg, and I don’t know what to do. After all, our sourcing of deals here is totally sporadic. Who knows when the next high-end toothbrush will come along, if it ever does? (And yes, they’re available at other stores, but seriously, have you seen how much those things cost when we don’t offer them at steep discounts? Oof!)

On the one hand, I could do what the tragicomic noble-in-denial could never: I could swallow my pride, go back to the basics, take a break from machine-generated brush strokes and slum it for a bit. On the other hand, I could, like the characters referenced above, go fully into denial. In this case, I would pretend all is just totally fine, and continue brushing with my sonic brush, even after it stops working, such would be my commitment to maintaining my status as a sonic toothbrush owner.

OR!

Option 3: I could buy one of these. Is it as good as a Philips? Probably not. But it can provide similar lateral oscillation to the $100 Laifen Wave Pro for only 15 bucks. Plus, it’s IPX7 waterproof and has 3 levels of lateral movement and 3 vibration speeds. Which means, it’ll be way more effective than using the freebie from the dentist’s office (or a broken electric brush), and it could bridge the gap until a better alternative shows up on the sales calendar, after which I could relegate it to travel use.

Yes, the sales pitch is: use this one until we sell a better one (if we do). But that’s the nice thing about selling stuff for so cheap! You can just be honest!