Clorox, Mistakes and Statues of Limitations

Written By Galen White

Have you ever been in such a hurry that you, literally, pulled a stupid stunt?

For example, you are late for work because you overslept. You jump out of bed, run to the bathroom, grab the toothpaste, squirt it on the brush, and commence to hastily brushin’ your teeth. Suddenly you realize the minty flavor of your toothpaste isn’t minty at all, but is extremely bitter, greasy and gooey, causin’ you to take a closer look at the tube.

Once you’ve got it in hand and your eyes focus on the printing, “Preparation H”, written in great big red letters, jump out at you like a starve-crazed grizzly bear jumpin’ on a pork chop. Eeeuuuuwwwww!!! Spittin’ and sputterin’, you desperately try to expel the awful tastin’ stuff before your mouth begins to do the same thing another part of your anatomy does when aptly applied with Preparation H!

Now, I know you are sittin’ there right now imaginin’  that ol’ Galen is speakin’ from experience. Well, think ag’in ’cause that hasn’t happened to me…….., not yet, at least. I have, however, tasted Brylcream back in the 50’s. Just in case you don’t know what Brylcream is, it was a hair cream (grease) that would hold that duck tail hairdo just right.

That wasn’t the only time my haste got me in hot water, though. When I was only about 8 years of age, gettin’ to go somewhere with my Dad was an adventure. So when he announced he was goin’ to Athens to get a haircut at Mr. Speer’s barbershop, I was ready to get a haircut, too. In fact, I ended up gettin’ ’em all  cut, just like Dad did.

Anyway, my mom wouldn’t let me go without first washin’ my head. After all, I’d most likely been out playin’ in the dirt or hay with Dixie, my dog. No parent in their right mind wanted to be embarrassed by their young’un havin a dirty head o’ hair.

So I ran into the bathroom where there was already a warm basin of water waitin’ for me. I bent over and stuck my head in the water and commenced to givin’ my hair a good washin’

You know, bein’ able to bend that far over – almost standin’ on my head – is one of the things I wished I could still do. Heck! It takes all I can do today to bend over and see if I have my boots on.

Regardless, I scratched and rubbed and ran my fingers through my wet hair, grabbed a towel and began dryin’ my topknot off, when mom came in and asked, “Did you wash your hair in that water?’

Prouder’n a peacock, I replied, “Yes, Ma’am. Just like you side do.” She began laughin’ and sayin’ somethin’ about me endin’ up havin’ white hair. It just so happened that she had put some Clorox in the water to soak some shirt or similar article of clothin’. Then here I come, runnin’ in, in a hurry, and wound up cloroxin’ the heck outta my hair.

The good news is that my hair didn’t turn white; at least, not then. And up until a few short years ago, I had a fairly good head o’ hair on my noggin’. Of course, that which is left is almost solid white, and that which isn’t white, is plumb gone.

In this day and age, reckon I could sue Clorox with the claim that they had somethin’ to do with my current look and lack of hair?

Yeah. I guess you’re right. I’ve heard about the statue of limitations. Ain’t never seen one, but I’ve heard of ’em. Seen a statue of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, but never one of this here limitations dude.

Oh, well. I suppose the best thing to so is not let yourself be in too big a hurry. In my old age I’ve determined I can make enough mistakes without bein’ in any hurry.

 

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Galen WhiteGalen White has written articles for several papers in North Louisiana and is now retired.

 

 

 

 

 

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