Toilet paper is an American family enigma that is not going away anytime soon. I have yet to meet a family that consists of two or more family members, where one is NOT a Toilet Paper Nazi. I mean, really. If you’re going to buy cheap, flimsy, poke-my-fingers-through TP, then I need to use at least one-and-a-half good spins to adequately polish off the job.
I have fond teenage memories of gathering around the dinner table with Dad, Mom, my older brother and younger sister, and listening to my father’s lecture about toilet paper usage violations. Distinctly I can still hear the deep, baritone voice commanding, “If you are a scruncher, you need to become a folder.” And thus I embarked on my folding days, which have served me well for twenty-something years. (I have saved my husband million$ of dollar$ during the past 21 years, thanks to my father’s wisdom.)
Yesterday, I asked my brother if he remembered that family “talk.” He replied in his money-minded, business-like manner, “No, but I’ve always been a folder, so it wasn’t something that applied to me.” Then he proceeded to tell me that everyone in his family uses too much bathroom tissue, exceptions include only himself and his diapered son. (See! He’s the TP Nazi in his house.) He mentioned one infraction when he heard the roll spin faster than a centrifuge. He wanted to yell, “I hope you’re cleaning the whole bathroom with that!” But didn’t.
Since my conversion to Coupon Sense, we have, for the first time in our married life, purchased QUALITY toilet paper. (It was on sale AND there was a coupon, making it less expensive than the bargain brand!) Only being familiar with the cheap goods, this new stuff feels like 12 ply. Sweet luxury at my disposal. Unknowingly, I married a TP Nazi, and he stood true to form after the new flannel-soft privy paper appeared in our powder room. Rick yelled from the john one night, “I hope you’re using less of this toilet paper now that we have this good stuff.” I assured him that I was still a folder, ….but only twice now.
In the early hours of the morning, necessity called and I made enough movements getting out of bed to ensure Rick’s wakeful state. After sitting there in the dark for several minutes, I yanked on the paper harder than I ever have and that baby spun as fast as my front-loading washing machine on full tilt. Rick hollered from the bed, “I bet you had to put your arm way over your head to make it spin that fast.” Oh, did we laugh. Undeviating from his economical character he added, “You better be rolling that back on there!” I could not stop laughing. O.K., I was really overtired, but it still makes me smile.
Who’s the TP Nazi in your home? If you can’t think of anyone else, it’s probably YOU!