I have a theory about toothpaste tubes. Behold the Crest tube I hold in my hands above. It has looked just like this, flat, used-up, for nigh unto, oh, must be at least two months. During that time, I’ve continued, on a daily basis, squeezing out enough toothpaste to accomplish my dental care mission. Every morning I think, “Today, there will be no more. It’s empty.” And yet, just enough squeezes out onto the toothbrush to, for yet another day, fight tooth decay and impart minty breath.

For at least 90% of its life, a toothpaste tube looks just like this. Yet, amazingly, as a result of secret technological innovations in high-security Proctor & Gamble labs, it continues to function usefully week after week. Somehow, a high proportion of the toothpaste remains even when the tube appears to be spent. This may, in fact, be a conspiracy to prompt gullible buyers into springing for a new tube, not realizing that they have only begun to mine the depths of flavorful goo contained therein.

It is much like that widow in Sidon, told about in Judges, whose jar of flour and jug of oil never ran empty. Or like the loaves and fishes. Except those were actual miracles, whereas Crest merely uses some clever engineering ploy.

But know this: even though the tube looks empty, it’s cleansing action will yet remain with you for weeks or months as you continue on your daily oral hygiene rituals.