Wanted … TP replacement specialist
Occasionally I find strange ways to entertain myself and torture my family at the same time. I delight in this doubleheader because I’ve made myself laugh and pointed out family members’ flaws, and honestly, it feels much better than it should.
Sometimes I get a wee bit bitter doing 99 percent of the work around the house. And yes, it’s my fault. I do too much and I let them get away with doing too little. Now that we are all clear on that, I will skip the therapy appointment and buy shoes with the $150 therapist hourly rate instead.
So last week while wearing my fabulous new no-therapy-necessary shoes, I noticed the toilet paper was out on the holder in our hall bathroom. For some still unknown reason, our entire family prefers to do its “business” in our hall bathroom though there are other toilet rooms to choose from. As a result, we go through copious amounts of TP in that room. In fact, there is a large drawer next to the commode where the back-up rolls are stored.
I decided that rather than restock the empty holder, I would wait until others had done so and the drawer back–up supply was gone. My motive was simple: does anyone in our family of five a) ever restock the drawer and b) know where the TP is stored in the garage? Hummm… let’s find out.
The first interesting pattern of laziness reared its ugly head when instead of restocking the paper goods, my loving family members simply robbed the nearby bathrooms of their TP supply to replenish the hall restroom. Soon all bathrooms were void of rolls.
I knew it wouldn’t be long until a shriek would be heard behind a closed bathroom door.
“Mom! Can you get me some toilet paper?!!” my daughter yelled.
“Take it up with your father dear,” I calmly replied. “I believe he used the last of it.” Tee-hee.
“That was not me!” my husband stated. “I had to use paper towels.”
“What?????!!!!” I sputtered out. “Let me get this straight. After relieving yourself, you LEFT the bathroom, walked to the kitchen and got paper towels???? Are you kidding me??!”
“No, of course not.” He explained. “I meant paper hand towels.”
“OMG!” I yelled. “Seriously? Those will back up the plumbing! Why didn’t you get more toilet paper from the garage?”
“Is that where we keep it?” he asked.
It may be useful to know we have lived in this house for nearly 20 years. I feel this is necessary to mention as I may kill my husband and my attorney would need the pertinent facts for my defense.
“Yes, dear,” said Sarcastic Sally now sporting another amazing pair of no therapy shoes. “The magic fairy who replenishes all paper products in this house stores her goods in the garage after she buys it at Costco.”
“Oh, well then why didn’t you refill the drawer?” he asked.
Internal dialog… “Don’t kill him because orange is not your color and the kids might not get adopted out of foster care because who wants teenagers who a) smell and b) can’t replace a toilet paper roll?”
“Let me get right on that honey,” I said while grabbing my purse, slamming the front door and heading out to the mall. I’m definitely going to need a bigger closet for all these shoes.
