When I was a kid, I remember my mom would squeeze every last morsel of toothpaste out of the tube, and then cut it open and have us scoop our toothbrushes in to wholly clean it out before we opened a new one. How annoying, I thought, and vowed right then and there, as a seven-year-old, never, ever to impose such a policy on my own offspring.
But this morning, without so much as batting an eye, I took a perforated bread knife from my kitchen and sawed away at this bottle of Kiehl’s Crème de Corps, an emollient so rich and so cherished that I’d resort to that scorned miserly measure just to have the satisfaction of using every single solitary meringue-colored, pleasingly cool drop.
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