How I Learnt to Brush My Teeth (Without Losing My Dignity)

By: P. G. Wodehouse (or at least, someone trying desperately to sound like him)

There are moments in a man’s life when he must pause, stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and admit that civilization has gone too far. Mine came on a Tuesday morning when my electric toothbrush decided to revolt.

You see, I was under the impression that brushing one’s teeth was a simple affair — a back-and-forth business followed by a minty sense of moral superiority. But apparently, in the year of our Lord 2025, brushing is a high-tech operation requiring Bluetooth, AI, and possibly a degree in mechanical engineering.

My toothbrush, a shiny gadget with more buttons than a battleship, began vibrating like a caffeine-addled squirrel. It connected to an app — because of course it did — and began rating my brushing “performance.”
Performance! As if I were auditioning for a toothpaste commercial.

According to the app, my “Technique Score” was 32%. My gums were “unenthusiastic.” My “brushing tempo” was “erratic.” It even sent me a push notification that said, “Consider brushing with more joy.”
More joy! What do they expect? A Bollywood dance number with toothpaste confetti?

Things got worse when I tried the “smart rinse” mode. The toothbrush squirted foam with such enthusiasm that I resembled a malfunctioning volcano. My dog watched, deeply concerned, as I attempted to regain dignity with toothpaste dripping from my ear.

After several traumatic mornings, I decided to abandon the electric menace and return to my good old manual toothbrush — a humble stick with bristles and no attitude. And what bliss it was! No beeping, no scores, no app telling me I’d failed as a human.

Just me, the mirror, and minty peace.

And thus, dear reader, I learnt the timeless truth:
Sometimes progress just needs to brush off.