No shit. (A goal, not an exclaimation.)

Happy Easter!

This sounds a little blasphemous, but it’s not meant to be. This year, I am thankful, as always, that Jesus Christ died and rose again for me. But I am also extremely thankful that I have running water.

And earlier this week, it was kind of a tough call as to which I was more thankful for.

Oh, man, the stomach bug bit me. Badly. A really bad combination of Thumper and Alien Baby that got brought on by I don’t know what.

Even though I know some folks who’ve been hit, they were hit months ago – like Christmas – and it’s not like I go anywhere. This week, OK, I did hit CVS twice to fill a prescription and treated myself to a take-out burger from Montana Mike’s, but it’s not like I was breathing on anyone.

But Tuesday night. Oh God, Tuesday night. I felt something coming on so I took the baking soda antacid (really - see the box: is there anything Arm & Hammer can’t do?) and then went to bed around 8:30.

And then I was up pretty much every hour from 1 a.m. on. I was just so thrilled I didn’t have to pull on snow boots and everything else. As it was, I came close to curling up on the bathroom floor. It’s carpeted and much bigger than the porta potties on campus.

My stomach felt like there was some sort of recurring earthquake, but other than that, I didn’t feel bad at all. No nausea or anything.

After a work day on Wednesday that was so bad I knocked an hour off my time claimed due to excessive bonding with a latrine, I went home, exhausted, at 5 p.m. Believe me, it was just not possible that there was anything solid, liquid or gas left in my body. I was napping by 5:30, awake a hour an a half later, then in bed at 8:30 p.m.

And no food on Wednesday, either. I had a mini Special Dark from one of the Bible study groups, tea and a Coke. Nothing else. Wasn’t even hungry.

Thursday, I risked it with Eggos for breakfast and although my stomach rumbled all day, nothing seriously bad happened until an hour after I had a cupcake, courtesy of some other group of the church. (Note to hungry people: Attend church more.)

Essentially, through Sunday afternoon, every time I’ve decided I’m OK – no rumblings for hours – I eat something light and then two hours later it starts over.

It’s gotten old. And it’s completely unfair, since I haven’t lost any weight. I did not take physics, but I honestly cannot understand how that’s even possible.

Esme and her seven piglet pups. 

I turned down an Easter lunch (two of them, actually) so that I can stay near my own flushing toilet and not be tempted with solid food. My Easter lunch was soupy grits. Oh, wow.

That was two hours ago after a reasonably rumbly-free morning. And now, right on cue, I’m starting to hear familiar gurgling again.

Jesus lives and so does Thumper. I have such mixed feelings about that.

In other news, I bought a new toothbrush. This is very non-newsy, but just be glad I don’t have Twitter or Facebook. This is optional reasoning on your part, so there.

Anyway, my old Oral-B electric toothbrush finally gave out. It was tough to find an almost identical model because they’re much more streamlined now. My requirements were rechargeable, interchangeable heads and a timer.

After doing way more research than I planned, I up and went to Walmart and narrowed the odds by limiting myself to what was on the shelf. Toothbrushes should not be as complicated to select as they are these days. (See: “First-world problems, exhibit No. 4,836,156.”)

Anyway, I found what I needed, added “Argo” as a point-of-sale purchases and called it a day.

Later, I learned that my toothbrush did not have a timer. The box, as well as the toothbrush itself, clearly said that it did, so I wasn’t happy.

Eyes opening at 2 weeks

But it didn’t appear to be Walmart’s fault, and the $12.87 toothbrush worked fine otherwise, so I opted to keep it and write Oral-B instead. They, after all, were the ones responsible for it. Walmart, for all its faults, was just the middleman on this one.

In the note, I told them my requirements for a toothbrush and expressed my disappointment that the one I got (and I sent them the UPC symbol and the packaging – a real letter by snail mail, not some whiny email). I also said that I recognized I could have sent it back to Walmart but it is unlikely Oral-B would have been told the reason for the return and I wanted them to know that I specifically wanted a timer on my toothbrush.

Had a devil of a time finding a real address for Oral-B, which, as it turns out, is part of Procter and Gamble.

There really was no ultimate goal to the letter. I knew the big company wasn’t going to give me back my $12.87 – that would have been something Walmart would have happily done. But I did want them to know I was disappointed that the toothbrush clearly marked “timer” in blue did not have a timer and felt they owed me something.

Well, they did acknowledge me. But they might as well not have.

I received a note saying they were sorry I was disappointed in my purchase and here, take this as a peacemaking gift.

Was it a toothbrush? No. Toothpaste? No. Dental floss? No.

Why would they acknowledge my “grip” (as Daddy called it) with something that indicated that they, the Great And Mighty Procter And Gamble, had actually READ the letter?

Although it was signed by someone that did indicate it was from Oral-B, what was enclosed had nothing to do with dental care.

A Tide pod.

Yes, Tide. Laundry.

Pod. That little thing for people too lazy/busy/unsteady to measure a capful of detergent.

A.     Singular. ONE freaking pod.

I could not believe it. I mean, come on. If you’re going acknowledge my perfectly valid complaint, don’t invalidate it by something so irrational it belies common sense.

And seriously, ONE? Way shell out to retain that customer base. Don’t I feel like an important customer?

They should have sent me a toothbrush. Or a coupon for one.

Or hey, Procter and Gamble, if you’re going to use existing customers to whore out your new product, at least give us enough information to make an informed decision on that product. It would have meant more to send me a coupon for a BOX OF pods, not just a single one.

And maybe I wouldn’t have even cashed it in. But you better believe that ONE load of laundry isn’t going to encourage me to spring for some newly packaged laundry detergent.

Especially since the goal of my purchase was clean teeth, not clothes.