Q-tips, that most surreal of products

Hold stick near centre of its length. Moisten pointed end in mouth. Insert in tooth space, blunt end next to gum. Use gentle in-out motion.

Those instructions, found on a box of toothpicks, convinced the fictional Wonko the Sane that the world had gone mad — how else to explain the need for instructions on how to use a toothpick? So, in Douglas Adams’ So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, Wonko built an inside-out house. When he was in it, he said he was “outside the asylum.” The rest of the world was “inside the asylum.”

I think Adams would have made his point better had he used the warning that appears on packages of Q-tips, in bold letters: “Do not insert swab into ear canal.” In other words, don’t do what people buy Q-tips to do.

So I was pleased to see this item in The Washington Post this morning: “The strange life of Q-tips, the most bizarre thing people buy.” Indeed.

I was somewhat surprised to learn that Q-tips were not initially designed or marketed specifically for the thing they are best suited to do — go into your ear canal. But no one, except apparently the manufacturer, pretends that they are not used for that.

The piece included dire warnings from physicians about never, ever sticking cotton swabs into your ears — not only to avoid injury to the eardrum, but because apparently earwax is a good and healthful thing.

I wouldn’t know. I’ve never, at any point in my life that I can recall, had earwax. I use cotton swabs every morning to dry out my ears after my shower — I can’t bear hearing and feeling water in my ears. In between those daily uses, I use them to deal with itching, also in my ears. They provide blessed relief. Sometimes at night, I can’t sleep for the itching, and have to go fetch a swab (we seldom buy the brand name, so it’s not technically a Q-tip) and give it a brief workout before I can go back to sleep.

The Post story says that’s a self-defeating cycle:

Using Q-tips leads to what dermatologists refer to as the itch-scratch cycle, a self-perpetuating addiction of sorts. The more you use them, the more your ears itch; and the more your ears itch, the more you use them….

Maybe. I think it has more to do with my allergies. The more they are acting up, the more my ears (and eyes, but you’ll be glad to know I don’t stick Q-tips into them) itch.

One of my earliest memories has to do with that problem. I was 3 or 4 years old. We were visiting my grandparents in Due West. My ears were driving me nuts. I couldn’t find where my grandparents kept their Q-tips, and I didn’t ask because I wasn’t allowed to use them on my own. I found a bobby pin on a dresser, and used that to address the itch. My ear started bleeding. I was a little scared, but my main concern was that I was really going to get in trouble. Even at that age, I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d done something that stupid. So I hid behind a door. This did not work. I was found, with blood coming out my ear, and yes, there were recriminations and a good deal of embarrassment.

But that’s never happened to me with Q-tips…

6 thoughts on “Q-tips, that most surreal of products

  1. susanincola

    I got an ad on this entry that will give me a free knife if I join the NRA. Struck me as funny.

  2. Norm Ivey

    I just got the same ad. There’s some sort of smart alec remark here about bringing a knife to a fight about guns….

      1. Brad Warthen Post author

        I’m looking at an ad for EARGO, “a revolutionary new hearing device.”

        Not because of my age, of course. I’m certain it’s because I’ve mentioned my Meniere’s Disease. Although I haven’t done that lately…

        I’m just sort of living with that. I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that there are some situations in which I’m just not going to be able to follow what’s going on. Such as at church. I go to the Spanish masses, and when you combine my diminished powers of following what is said in Spanish (it’s been 50 years since I lived in Ecuador) with the horrible acoustics at St. Peter’s, I’m lucky to catch a sentence now and then.

        Last night in a ceremony at my granddaughter’s school, I had no idea what was being said. I just clapped as the kids came across the platform. I was just assuming it was me, and accepting that. But it wasn’t me. My son, who is a sound engineer, eventually got up and went to help the guy running the board, because NOBODY could hear…

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