Of Life and Times

I have been having a conversation with myself for some years now about the toilet paper tower in our bathroom. It is a spindle that sits on the ground that holds three rolls of toilet paper so you do not run out of this important commodity at in inopportune moment. Come to think of it, is there such a time as an opportune moment to find yourself without the needed paper?

The only reason I bring it up is because I feel like my conversation with myself on the subject is somewhat indicative of much of my life. When I enter the bathroom and see the spindle is full of toilet paper I am comforted that my life is in order (at least where this is concerned) and that I am safe from embarrassment and worry. I can come and go knowing that my backup is in place in case of emergency. It is a nice feeling. And yes, I actually do think of such things.

Here is the life cycle of that tower of TP. I enter the bathroom and feel protected by that full spindle of paper. In fact, sometimes I even balance a fourth roll on top of the stack just to be extra sure that I don't run out anytime soon. The current roll is emptied and tossed. The leftover cardboard tube gets thrown into the garbage and the top roll comes off, is unwrapped and placed confidently on the holder, ready to be used.

So far, so good. Now I start to silently watch the stack. I've used my extra. All that is left are the essential three rolls. I wonder how long they will last. Mind you, I don't consciously plot, plan and measure, but I am aware that these fleeting thoughts pass through my little world like a comet noticed at a great distance in space. It is there, but not of any immediate concern.

The next roll comes off the top of the spindle and I begin to have passing thoughts of replacing the missing roll or rolls. I know there is still plenty of time because we are not going to use the roll on the toilet paper holder and two extras anytime this week. But I am more aware that I am now using my stock of available paper. This is my safety net, and it is developing holes, but is still holding. Every time I use the toilet I sense the ebbing stash of TP in the back of my mind. I know what I should do, but can't convince myself that it is important enough yet to do anything about it.

Two rolls left. It seems like it will last forever. I can see the current roll slowly, but persistently shrinking on the holder, but there is still enough not to worry about it. I convince myself that I still have enough, and to spare, so there is no need to replace them just yet. But still, in the back of my mind I tell myself that it would still be better to operate from a position of strength and preparedness than to wait until the crisis is upon me. I contemplate that thought and go my merry way.

The time between the beginning of the stack and the time when I find myself looking at only one roll seems to fade into oblivion. It is like the time that I was a new father, waiting for someone to come and take that baby home with them, because I couldn't fathom that it was really mine, and the day I realized that my little baby now needed feminine products and was interested in boys. It always comes as a shock. It is unexpected, though not unforeseen.

Finally I am approaching a crossroad. I can see it approaching, I have no more toilet paper on the spindle and my current roll is melting away as if by magic. Just go put some more paper on the spindle, for heaven's sake! Stop procrastinating and just do it! I vow to myself that as soon as I leave the bathroom I will get it taken care of so I can stop worrying about it. Then I promptly leave the bathroom and forget all about the toilet paper problem.

The difference with being on your last roll is that now you cannot let it fade into obscurity, like the bulk of your life has. Now there is an acute awareness that it may not be you who is caught without toilet paper on the holder. Yes, it may be my wife. Then I am going to be embarrassed because there really was no reason for her to be stranded without the tp when I could have refilled the spindle a dozen times, but was simply too lazy to do it. Whereas it is also true that she could have refilled it at any time as well, I have, for many reasons, taken that responsibility on myself. And no man wants to appear lacking in the eyes of his life's love, even if it is just over a roll of toilet paper.

Still, I let the paper on the holder get down to where I fear that there is less than a couple of feet of paper left on the roll before I become so disgusted with my own negligence that I finally go plow through the closet until I have a stack of four rolls of toilet paper to put on the spindle.

Ah, the satisfaction of knowing that there are ample rolls of toilet paper just waiting to be used. Nobody will be faced with the exigency of needing toilet paper and not having any on hand. My wife will never even notice that it was empty because I made sure it was always in plentiful supply (at least that is what I tell myself).

Life is good. Then two uses later the roll runs out and the extra roll on top comes off to go onto the toilet paper holder. Hmm, only three rolls left ...