Saturday, April 18, 2020
Today I am grateful to score toilet paper! Not only did I score, but I scored “the bear”. You know which one. The little guy in the commercials who has a piece of cheap ass-wipe stuck to his behind, until he is enlightened on the joys of Charmin.
That didn’t used to mean a bloody thing to me. Not one thing. I barely even thought about toilet paper unless I was in a public rest room and there wasn’t any. Then I thought about it the entire time I was doing my business, plotting and praying a co-conspirator would enter and show mercy before I had to sacrifice articles of clothing. Now I think about it in my own home. All the time. I’m opening that cabinet in the bathroom more than I am the refrigerator, so you know it’s bad.
We’re not “out”, but mostly because kind friends have been dropping off a roll, or even a package, here and there. And himself scored some one day, too. But it has been coming into the house in dribs and drabs and flushing away with greater frequency. And what I have been able to get my hands on was about as affective as the receipt from CVS! When I worked as a property management assistant, I had a boss who called maintenance and asked, “What did you do with the other half of my toilet paper?” We’re there.
Now that we’ve hit the motherlode, we are no longer trying to hold-out-to-the-last-possible-moment and spending more time in the facilities. I think Himself is trying to use up the cheap stuff so he can get to the premium. Or is that me?
I’ve been adding TP to my Shop Rite grocery list every single week. Haven’t gotten so much as an empty tube in six weeks of shopping on line. Not one square! The first time I ordered it I foolishly marked off one brand. Nothing. Second week! Aha! I’ll show them. I marked two different brands. Last time I check every toilet paper brand there was. Still nothing!
I think they’re messing with my head. You can’t sell me the liverwurst for Himself every week and not send me any toilet paper. The two go hand-in-hand! Or hand-on-ass. They’re a package deal. One simply doesn’t work well without the other. Trust me!
I like to be prepared. The store I found who has it, wouldn’t sell me four packages. Only two. I don’t want to turn into a hoarder, but I fear that ship might have already sailed because I want more! More! More! I tell you! More!
But I’m just a big enough bitch to not tell you publicly where I got these golden, two-ply squares! You see, I’m planning to score toilet paper again today and maybe tomorrow. . .and maybe the next day, until my anxiety subsides. Then I’ll take TP off of my Shop Rite list and that’ll show ‘em! Watch them send some anyway.