|The objects of our desire|
Some of you may have read my first essay on this revived/new blog, posted April 1, called “A Toilet Paper Confession.” After it was posted, some neighbors involved in an effort to meet the needs of the elderly/medically fragile residents in our subdivision made a copy of the blog and delivered it around to residents with a list of important numbers and websites to have on hand during the coronavirus crisis. So a lot of people who might not otherwise have seen my blog saw that one.
The next day, I went out of my house in the morning and discovered a single unwrapped roll of toilet paper (I’m guessing Charmin, but don’t hold me to that) sitting on my adobe wall. I laughed out loud. I laughed so hard I might have even peed my pants, just a little. The next day, same thing: another roll of T.P. greeted me when I walked out of my house. The next day, redux. By this morning I had FOUR rolls of toilet paper I didn’t even have to pay for or chase down to hoard!
The last roll came with a sweet note tucked inside the cardboard center: “If you are still having a hoarding issue with T.P., can we be of further assistance?” it asked. “Cheers.” No signature, but it was written on a page of personalized memo paper. The perpetrator was caught! I’ll call him John—because, well, his name is John—and I phoned him up immediately to thank him.
Whatever can make us laugh during these bizarre times is a good thing. Figure out how to make someone laugh today! Me? I’m going to recycle these rolls to another neighbor I happen to know is still in need. . . .maybe with a Christmas bow on top.
The photo proves the existence of my Toilet Paper Pixie. The strange little tiny rolls are actually Japanese toilet paper made from bamboo (and with no inner cardboard tube) and ordered online by a friend. Aren’t they cute? They take up a lot less space under the cabinet, too. Who needs the tubes, anyway? Just more junk for the landfill. And hey, does anybody really enjoy struggling with those stupid little spring-loaded dealies the toilet paper rolls go on? If I don’t know the name for that device, I don’t think I need it, do you? Down with cardboard tubes! Up with Japanese-style toilet paper! Sayonara for now.
P.S. Some of you may be aware that I was born in Okinawa, which makes my predilection for the Japanese potty paper understandable. . . .