I'm one of those people who needs to join Lip Balm Anonymous. I keep a tube of lip balm (or three) in my car, a tube (or two) in my purse, a tube in my desk, a tube in my jeans pocket, and an ever-changing number of tubes in my kitchen medicine cabinet depending on how many of my kids nab one as they leave for school.
The tube in car door well is nearly empty. Or empty to the point where I can no longer swipe my lips across the top and get comfortably balmed. Instead I have to use the tip of my pinky finger to dip, swipe and wipe. This isn't a very satisfying experience but it beats scraping my lips across the top of the plastic rim to the point of chafing my already chapped lips.
You might think an empty tube of lip balm is something to feel sad about. Or bereft, depending on the state of your chapped lips. But not for me.
I am thrilled.
Damn close to deliriously happy.
Because it means
Same goes for an empty container of
This past summer I emptied one. I'm pretty sure it was the first bottle of sunscreen I managed to hang onto the entire summer and not lose it to someone else's beach bag.
Here are a few more things I haven't emptied but look forward to celebrating when I do:
Because I mainly keep this around for my Louisiana native friends.
Because when I change purses, I always manage to leave a few loose pennies, a wadded up tissue, a stick of gum that's dried-stuck to it's foil wrapper, and a stray tube of
This post is dedicated to the real Aunt Bee in my life. Love you Aunt Bee!