This one’s not about the newspaper, that item that’s quickly disappearing from our reading landscape. Nor is it about the stuff we use during the rare times we pick up a pen. This one’s about the stuff we use in the bathroom—THAT paper.
A man who taught a class for American diplomats headed to British postings told me the two biggest complaints he heard about us from Brits were about our use of the phone and our use of toilet paper. Apparently, the crowd across the pond felt we overuse both.
I must admit I have a love-hate relationship with the stuff myself. Like darned near every mother of a toddler,
I heard the house get VERY quiet one day while I was doing laundry. Upon investigation, I found said toddler happily unrolling an entire roll of toilet paper as she giggled happily. Not quite in the same league as the time she raided the fridge for the open can of chocolate frosting to smear over her body, but close. What is it with kids and toilet paper? It reminds me of Sir Edmund Hilary climbing Mr. Everest—because it’s THERE.
When we lived in the Washington DC area, every time snow was predicted, we all rushed to the store with the same shopping list: milk, bread and toilet paper, or T.P. as more delicate types called it. Fast forward to Covid. Believe me that stuff was as popular as Cabbage Patch Dolls in their heyday, but thankfully less expensive. Stores limited the amount we could buy—IF we could even find it.
I thought I’d made a total score when I struggled home with one of those big 20-roll packages, only to discover it was the thin type for use in septic tanks and campers. Stuck with the wrong thing, unable to replace it, and citing my fugal Midwestern streak, I was DETERMINED to use it up. We worked on it for the rest of Donald Trump’s term and into Joe Biden’s, while my little granddaughter complained, “Grandma, what’s wrong with your toilet paper? Why is it so thin?” I thought of telling her I put it on a diet, but didn’t want to give the little tyke body-image issues.
The younger crowd doesn’t know this, but during the early sixties, toilet paper came in colors, to match our bathrooms. I remember seeing a rainbow on the grocery aisle: carnation pink, sky blue, mint green and lemon yellow. Today the manufacturers would be trying to figure out how to dye it gray.
The latest fad has a scalloped edge for each sheet, claiming it tears easier, not that I’ve noticed. A skeptic on Facebook said, “I’m interested to see how these scallops affect my bathroom experience.” Me too. I’m just too cynically Old School to be convinced.
Kommentare