I am a toilet paper expert. Not only have I bought thousands of rolls of toilet paper over the years, but I've also changed almost every single
roll of toilet paper in our home since the day I married. If you consider four people, plus all the visitors, and how much toilet paper we go though, this equates to about a billion rolls of toilet paper, give or take a million. Or
maybe it just seems that way. Now, if you are a grown woman, I don't have to explain why knowing how to change the toilet paper roll is a vital survival skill. But if you're a man or someone under the age of 21, I should
probably go into some detail because you've undoubtedly never understood the moral dilemma wives and mothers face when it comes to toilet paper.
This is the way it goes: I walk into the bathroom, shut the door, do my
business and reach for the toilet paper. Invariably there is none. Lots of colorful remarks, mostly centering around the physical inability of certain family members to replace a simple roll of toilet paper, ensue. Needless to say,
the mechanics it takes to recover from this situation are not for the fainthearted, so I won't go there. This is one time the old adage "when life hands you lemons, make lemonade" doesn't apply.
Then I grudgingly put out another
roll in the bathroom as usual. I do it not because I feel sorry for the three people in this house who apparently have never learned how to put toilet paper on the roll or because I worry about them running out of toilet paper.
They obviously are oblivious to the pain and suffering not to mention humiliation they inflict.
No, I do it because I know I'm the only person under this roof with the intelligence, skill and commitment it takes to change a
roll of toilet paper without having to be told to do it.
That, plus every time my husband has tried to put on a new roll, he can't seem to put the toilet paper holder back on tight enough, so that when you unroll it, the
little spring pops out and the paper plus all the toilet paper holder parts go sailing around the bathroom.
And watching your toilet paper fly by your head and land in the still wet shower six feet away is by far
worse than having none at all
