“Hey honey, why is there a roll of toilet paper in my shoe?” asked my husband.
It was a perfectly reasonable question. People don’t normally store rolls of toilet paper in their husband’s shoes. But I had a Defcon 5 toilet paper storage situation. And also, I’m not normal.
The trouble started when I ordered toilet paper online. Because we were dangerously close to having a toilet paper shortage emergency, I hastily ordered what I thought was a pack of 12 rolls of toilet paper. What I got, though, was 12 packs of 12 rolls of toilet paper. Even for a family that goes a lot, that’s a lot of toilet paper.
Had we still been living in our house in the suburbs, I would have laughed it off and stored it all on one of the apocalypse shelves in the basement. But we were not in a house. We were in an apartment. And it was an apartment with only four closets and only one shelf for extra paper goods. The paper towels had already claimed a large portion of the real estate there. So, there wasn’t even room really for one 12-pack of toilet paper, much less a case of it, no matter how much I squeezed the Charmin.
They say when one is rich in toilet paper, they are rich in love. But it soon became clear that the toilet paper situation was on the verge of disrupting the otherwise peaceful coexistence of my husband and myself in our downsized home.
“The toilet paper is in your shoe because there is no other place to put it,” I explained.
“And that is because …” he wondered.
“I over-ordered the toilet paper!” I said defiantly. “And now we have enough toilet paper to wipe everyone’s butts for the next decade, but there is nowhere to store it!”
“Just how much toilet paper are we talking about?” he asked.
I sighed. “One hundred and forty-four rolls.”
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He knew when he was on dangerous ground and decided that when push came to flush, he could live with toilet paper in his shoes.
But soon enough, the shlit hit the flan.
“There is toilet paper in my sock drawer,” he said indignantly, pulling out two rolls covertly trying to blend in with his socks. I had put them in with the white sports socks so they would be less noticeable.
I said nothing.
He went to make breakfast.
“There is toilet paper in the pots and pans,” he sighed.
He opened the microwave.
“There are four rolls of toilet paper in the microwave!” he said through gritted teeth. “Honey, this is ridiculous.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do?” I replied. “I’m doing the best I can. There’s just no place to put all the toilet paper.”
“Well we can’t keep it in the microwave and the pots and pans,” he said. “Can you find another place?”
“Fine,” I said reluctantly.
“Is there anymore toilet paper hidden that I should know about?”
“Not that much,” I said softly.
He eyed me suspiciously and then went to the front closet to get his jacket to go to work. But as soon as he opened the door, something shifted inside the closet and suddenly, 36 rolls of toilet paper rained down upon his head.
“Tracy!” he yelled. “Toilet paper is literally falling on my head!”
“What?” I said shrugging. “At least it’s soft.”
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