The paralyzing nature of dentifrice

About a week and a half ago, my cousin Rachel was in for a visit. On the way to the airport, I realized that I had used the last of the toothpaste in my house that morning. No problem, I thought. I'll just stop and get some before we get home.

A delayed flight, flatbread pizza and a couple of hours later, we were on our way to my house when I remembered my toothpaste dilemma. There is a CVS pharmacy less than a mile from my house, so with a quick, "I'll be right back!", I left Rachel in the car to run in to buy toothpaste.

And that is where my night stalled. Standing in the toothpaste aisle at CVS (I hate CVS. They're not good at organizing anything rationally!), I was paralyzed by the 850 toothpaste choices sitting innocuously on the shelf. Extra Whitening or Minty Fresh Breath Strips? Baking Soda and Peroxide or Night-time formula? What the CRAP?! How did the toothpaste industry become OCD?

10 minutes later, I left the store clutching my Crest Pro-Formula Whitening toothpaste. I have no idea what it does, but it was cheap and I needed to leave the store before I hyperventilated. Choice is a good thing. Too many choices mean that I will go with the cheapest. I am Dutch. With clean teeth. Presumably.