Where the rains came from

The other night, M came in to put me to bed, and we had this conversation about... something. It was funny and interesting and cute and very, very us. If you're lucky, you know what kind of conversation that I mean because you have those moments with your significant other where it reminds you of just why you click with that person even though in the general scheme of things, it will not rank as even one of your top one thousand conversations. Anyway, at the end, we came up with a summary of the conversation and I asked M to write it down and put it on my desk so I could think about it again later. I especially liked it because M said that the whole thing was really like a line from a Counting Crows CD--which is to say, completely meaningless on one level but incredibly profound at the same time. (I added that meaningless/profound thing, not him. He does not wax poetic about much CC-related.) Anyway, here is the direct transcription of that conversation, as found on a post-it on my desk:

WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT THE
TOOTHPASTE, AND WHERE
THE RAINS CAME FROM

And... it is less than a week later, and I have no flipping clue what that is supposed to mean, but it makes me smile anyway... and I haven't yet asked M if he remembers what it meant because I kind of like not knowing. It reminds me I think I'm going to stick it up on my desk so I can continue to ponder what sort of toothpaste excess leads to the origin of the rain.