Are You My Mother?

Maybe I have lost control of some of my basic characteristics since I have been a full time student or something. I have not been thinking critically about things and doing slap 'n' dash jobs of others. Case in point: My moldy toothbrush. How does one toothbrush get moldy? I clean the handle twice a day after I use the utensil. The mold not only lives in the toothbrush holder now, but in the crevices of the rubber handle. I just noticed this new feature a few days ago when it must have been developing for at least a week. How did that happen? Or more so, how did I let this happen? Well, I thought leaving my ritualistically device out in the open would air it out, but I guess mold is more prevalent in SF and this proves it. Instead of dipping the brush in some antiseptic, I opt for simply buying a new one. A new one that will most likely get moldy in my damp SF apartment as well.
Another situation made me wonder where my thought process has been lately. Chris and I were are Barnes & Noble and I was wandering around the book shelves a little drunk. We spend a good half hour picking out what we wanted; for myself a historical book on Marie Antoinette and Running with Scissors. Chris was saving his money for another time. When we reached the register I made my purchase, which went well eventhough my capabilities were a touch compromised. I noticed there where books with specially made tags. One had "BOY, AGE 5," another "GIRL, AGE 7" and so on. Putting two and two together my mind figured out that there might be a charity activity going on. I questioned the very patient young clerk about the books and indeed he said that these books could be bought and then they were put aside to be taken to orphans in local orphanages. Awesome, I thought, and I asked Chris if we could splurge on a book and he agreed. So I leapt at the chance to buy one of the books for a boy of five years. Are You My Mother? was a favorite of mine growing up, but I did not realize my ironic mistake until Chris and I were driving home. A young boy will be crying himself to sleep on Christmas because of my lack of forethought. Thinking optimistically, maybe he won't and he will love the book and cherish it as his caretakers will look on, shaking their heads disapprovingly. How could they give and orphan a book entitled, Are You My Mother? -a book about a baby bird who temporarily loses his mother, but then happily is reunited with her once again. Well, maybe one day that young boy will find his mother or a mother, who knows.
--- Have a Happy Thanksgiving! Happy Christmas shopping!