A funny thing happened while I was brushing my teeth this morning. Yes, van life can be very humorous…. If you allow yourself to see the funny side. I could smell something faintly funky. I looked at my toothbrush. Sniffed it. No, it was not my toothbrush. So where was the funky odour coming from?
I checked the container I keep it in. It is a long plastic cover made of two halves that fit together in the middle. Yes, the container smelt a little. Enough that I knew I would not deposit my toothbrush in it without cleaning it first.
I decided I would scald it with some water boiled on the stove. In the half light (this was well before sunrise) I grabbed my stove and put on a small pot of water to boil. I planned to scald the container to eradicate the funky smell. The container has two parts that mash together in the middle to hold your toothbrush.
In the half light of pre-dawn, I placed both halves, open ends up, inside my drinking mug. When the water boiled, I carefully dribbled scalding water into the two halves. Or I thought I did. I waited a full minute before picking them up. I didn’t want to burn myself and I was aware that in the half-light I could easily hurt myself with the scalding water.
Hrmm! When I finally picked up the two halves, there was no water in either of them. I must have missed the openings completely! I should have fished out my glasses because clearly I was not seeing so well at this early hour.
So, I boiled more water.
Again, when I picked up the two halves of my toothbrush holder, there was no water in either. That is when I went to get my lantern. If I had been awake enough I would have figured how the water made it into the mug.
On my third attempt, by the light of the lantern, I noticed that each end had a small hole and hey presto, the water was in the mug. Cue the palm-to-forehead moment.
I guess those holes are for breathability so that your toothbrush does not get smelly after making contact with morning breath. Too late. I pondered what I would do with my toothbrush to rejuvenate it without risking my health to do so. Given my value of sustainability, it got me thinking what else would you use a toothbrush for?
I worked as a domestic cleaner some time ago and I remember using toothbrushes to remove mould from shower tiles and the green yuck that sometimes accumulates around cold-water taps. Now living van life, I had no need to use it for mould removal. Nor was I cleaning cold taps any time soon.
I also used old toothbrushes for cleaning the hinges on toilet seats and a separate one for scrubbing the metal bottom of my dishrack. I no longer owned a dishrack and nope, I would not be cleaning other people’s toiles with my old toothbrush.
A bit of research with Mr Google yielded a list of interesting and practical suggestions, a few of which I have listed below for those of you who are curious:
- Applying hair dye / retouching roots
- Cleaning out the mesh in a hair dryer
- As a nail cleaner
- For taming unruly eyebrows
- Cleaning the bottoms of shoes
More research revealed some people recommend using a toothbrush to exfoliate your…..lips?
Apparently the motion of scratching your lips with your toothbrush stimulates blood flow to the skin of your lips and can exfoliate dead skin, which in turn prevents chapped lips – something I have dealt with a few times while living van life. But I must confess, I would find that rather uncomfortable.
Now this is a new one on me – apparently your old toothbrush can be used to exfoliate ingrown hairs after shaving. Hamm, fancy that!
I prefer the more practical suggestion of using an old toothbrush to clean my laptop keyboard or the automatic gearstick in my SUV; especially where my fingers are too big to fit into the nooks and crevices around the leather sleeve of the gearstick.
But the smell was not coming from the toothbrush. It was the container. Thankfully, after three more scalds with boiling water, the container stopped smelling funky. In the meantime, I learned new uses for my toothbrush once it becomes un-useable and enjoyed laughing at myself in the pre-dawn of another day of life on the road.
Christine Writer 