About a week ago, we ran out of soap in the bathroom. I haven't really had the time or motivation to buy new soap. It's not really a big deal, because there happens to be ample quantities of dog shampoo in there so I've been using that to wash my hands. My husband is not as inventive, and asked me a few days ago if the lack of soap was some sort of social experiment to see how long we could go without bathroom soap until he had to buy some himself.
I told him the lack of bathroom soap wasn't nearly as nefarious as he thought - I'd just forgotten to buy new soap. However, since he brought it up, then yes - I would turn it into a social experiment to see how long we could go without until he bought some. (Usually I'm the one who buys hand soap, but this time I wanted to see what he would do.)
Now, I knew that this would pose some kind of risk. The last time I asked him to buy hand soap, he came home with a bottle of revoltingly chemical-laden dishsoap that had been infused with slimy Olay moisturizer. "It said hands on the label! I assumed it was hand soap!" Man logic, sigh.
Steve finally bought soap a few days ago. He somehow found the most ridiculous hand soap in existence. It plays music, lights up, and smells like strawberry shortcake. It's pink.
The result of this social experiment? Awesome, but smells like sugary death.