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>ASK BONNIE>RANDOM QUERY | The Trouble With Toilet Paper |
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| Q&A with Bonnie Biv | November 29, 1:16 a.m. | |
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Why can't my husband change the damned toilet paper roll? This is not rocket-surgery!
I'm afraid I am guilty of the Quilted Northern drive-by too. And I'll tell you why: When I finally get ten private minutes locked away from the kids for – er – quiet reflection, the last thing I want to deal with is an unplanned mechanical endeavor. It's almost as annoying as inadvertently opening a clean dishwasher. I just want to flip through my Entertainment Weekly, wipe my butt and go.
It's not that we loo-offenders expect our spouses to reload the springy contraption after we’re long gone. We simply anticipate coming back later in more dignified posture. Unfortunately for you tidy types, we rarely remember. By the time we get around to it, either a half-roll is still sitting on the tank, or you have loudly sighed that exasperated “why?” (so that we hear you clearly from the next room where we're blissfully tuned in to West Coast Choppers) and handled the mini-maintenance yourself.
Which is as it should be, really. I mean, you're the persistent pain in the ass who gives a rolling rancor about proper paper replacement! Do you get this riled up about the over vs. under unfurling-of-squares debate, too?
On that point, let me ask you this: Why in smelly hell is this the hill you're battling on?
It's toilet paper, woman. Its unconventional storage will not have a negative impact on your bathroom décor—that is, unless it falls into the bowl, in which case it's a nice little token of revenge toward your man, who will inevitably have to fish it out for you.
If you don't like the cardboard tube's last wispy tissues fluttering below the stink-fan, you could get rid of the holder altogether. (Or is that where you stash your cigarettes?) I assure you, the tank is a perfectly acceptable spot to stock a roll. In fact, stack some flushable wet wipe packs there too. They’re hiney-heaven!
Of far greater concern than paper should be your husband's on-the-potty-etiquette:
Does he leave the seat up, where you enjoy occasional views of vile yuckery, or have you browbeaten him into peeing sitting down? Does he carefully aim to a splash-free epicenter, or is he one of those bathrobe-donning boys who staggers in barefoot and shivers mid-stream, apparently unaware of his own splatter? Does he spend a noisy half-hour squatting after business lunches at Fiesta Del Fuego, leaving the throne speckled with evidence of his misery?
Does he remember to flush?!
See? If you're going to pick a fight, choose something worth the dukes.
A clean bowl is far more important than a full roll. (Ah, that is pure poetry.) The porcelain altar should be prepped at all times for that rare, spontaneous night of indulgence-inspired prayer.
| And Now, A Word From My Affiliate |
| Readers Bite Back (Sink Teeth Here) |
Editor's note: See response, Maybe It IS Rocket Surgery!
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