Here’s the deal: If you finish the toilet paper, replace the toilet paper! Don’t even think that by leaving two sheets of paper on the roll means you’re Scott free (sorry, I couldn’t resist). You’re not.
Two sheets to wipe a #2 is two too few. Also, if you do get a new roll, please replace the roll; don’t just sit it atop the old one. What does this tell your loved one? I love you, but, gee, just not enough for such taxing, physical labor.
However, having a loved one at home when you run out of toilet paper can be a blessing; just yell for toilet paper and ye shall receive toilet paper. Only, there’s a risk involved if the loved one who makes the delivery is your child; your young child who has friends over. Friends who are under the assumption they are filming an action movie and bust open the bathroom door; friends who are not shy looking at you in an uncompromising position. These friends seem shocked when told to “Get Out.” These friends go home and spread rumors to their parents about Crazy Potty Lady.
There are also risks involved to being home alone and running out of paper. You realize too late there is no toilet paper and the tissue box is empty. So, home alone, you rise and with ankles shackled by your underwear shuffle to the spare roll drawer. You open the drawer, you reach in the drawer, you curse the drawer. The drawer is empty.
Now, you try to make a mad dash for the kid’s bathroom, down the hall. Only, with underwear binding your ankles, dashing is hard to do. You feel like your running in a three-legged race. You get to the bathroom and realize it’s void of toilet paper. Not only is there an empty roll on the spool, there’s a second roll atop of it, also empty.
While you question the intelligence level of family members, you plan for the trip to the downstairs bathroom. The safest way to make this trip with underwear at the ankles is to slide down the steps, on your belly. It’s risky, but drastic times call for drastic measures. At the bottom of the steps you let out a symphony of curse words because you now have third-degree burns.
In the third bathroom you hit the jackpot, your search is over.
With all the risks, it’s imperative for the toilet paper to keep flowing. Going to the bathroom should not be a crap shoot.
— Cindy Argiento
Cindy Argiento is the author of Deal with Life’s Stress With a Little Humor. Her award-winning columns and essays have appeared in numerous newspapers and in two Chicken Soup for the Soul books. Click here for her blog.