The Toothbrush Swirly and Other Life Occurrences

As I mentioned before, weird things happen to me… although I have to wonder—is it actually me? Do I happen to things? If that makes any sense.

When weird things do happen, they almost always become a funny story. And my sister always asks, “Why do you tell people?”

The reason? Partly because it’s funny—and partly because I just can’t make most of this sh*t up.

Case in point: The Toothbrush Swirly.

In August 2024, I went on my first cruise—to Alaska! So cool, right?

It was a “test cruise” before we sailed around England, Ireland, and Scotland this past May/June. We wanted to make sure a cruise ship could handle my, uh… unique dietary needs. There are a lot of them. Some are kind of weird. I’m sure you’ll hear all about them at some point.

We cruised with Holland America, and they absolutely surpassed my expectations. I was most worried about safely following a gluten-free diet, and they were amazing. Seriously—if you’re gluten-free (or have any other dietary issues) and are thinking about cruising, check them out… and tell them Heather sent you. (Okay, okay, I wasn’t that special onboard… but almost.)

So off we went to Alaska.

One particular day, we’d just come back from an excursion.

It was chilly, so I had on a sweatshirt—and I really had to pee.

We rushed back to our cabin, and as I walked into the bathroom, I started taking off my sweatshirt. Somehow, my sleeve caught the handle of my toothbrush… and flung it right into the toilet.

Right into the bowl.

Bristles down, just hanging out in the toilety water.

(The toilet had been cleaned while we were gone—but still. Who wants to brush their teeth with a toilet-water-laden toothbrush? Not me!)

I stood there staring down, thinking, “How the heck did that happen?”

So I went and told my sister.

Who, of course, laughed. And not just a little laugh—I mean red-faced, can’t-breathe, peeing-her-pants, tears-rolling-down-her-face laughter.

Then about ten minutes later, once she recovered and was able to speak again, she said, “That’s why you should always put the lid down.”

Thanks, Kris. Helpful. Really, REALLY helpful.

Thankfully, she’s an awesome sister—so I forgave her.

Sometimes my enthusiasm for life causes its own chaos. Like the time of The Great T.P. Explosion of Target.

Years ago, when Mae was about two (yes, many, many, many years ago—dinosaurs had just gone extinct), my brother was dating a woman we’ll call Anna.

Anna used to come visit and stay with us for a few days. We got along great. One night after dinner, we left Mae with my husband, JP, and went to Target.

A little backstory: Anna lived in New York City. And in NYC, people walk everywhere, so stores have little conveniences—like paper handles they stick on large items so you can carry them home more easily.

This was not something we had in Massachusetts. So when the cashier asked if I wanted a handle on my pack of toilet paper, I was thrilled.

“Yes, please!” I said.

This is one of those moments where hindsight screams, “Say no!” Because that handle made me want to skip.

So I did.

And the toilet paper package exploded. Toilet paper rolls went everywhere.

All over the front of the store.

This wasn’t a small 4-pack of toilet paper—it was, of course, one of the big 18- or 24-roll packs.

Anna and I were laughing so hard we could barely stand, trying to gather the rogue rolls as fast as we could.

And of course, I had to tell people. Because honestly? It was funny.

Really funny.

I wish I could say I learned my lesson and became a more cautious, less spontaneous person after that.

But the truth is… I just learned not to skip in public. With a pack of toilet paper.

Moral of the stories?
Always put the toilet lid down.
Don’t skip in public with toilet paper.
And maybe—just maybe—I’m the weirdness that happens.

If this gave you a laugh (or made you rethink skipping in public), hit ⭐ Like, share it with a friend, and follow Brain Fog & Brilliance for more stories that prove I might actually be the weirdness that happens.