So here’s what happened. As the pandemic began last year, I realized that people were searching high and low for bathroom tissue. Toilet paper. Butt-wipe. Whatever you call it in your home.
Now here’s the thing. There’s two different types of toilet paper – there’s the soft, squeezable stuff you can buy in the grocery store, and then there’s the kind of toilet paper that’s available at most offices and restrooms. You know that kind. It’s usually one-ply, it’s thinner than a thought, and it feels like you’re wiping your rear with the local newspaper.
Well, during the initial stages of the pandemic, I started ordering supplies and office materials from W.B. Mason. Apparently any schmo can order supplies through W.B. Mason, whether you’re a business or not. They’ll drop it off at your front door, and all is good. Heck, you can even get a collectible W.B. Mason diecast truck if you order on a certain day or if you purchase a specific product.
So let’s cut to the bulk of the story.
I’m running low on toilet paper. I maybe have half a roll left. So rather than traipse to the grocery store or to the pharmacy and pay TP (top price) for TP (toilet paper), I noticed that W.B. Mason was offering a box of several rolls of toilet paper – 500-count, two-ply, and safe for all drains and septic systems.
Price was reasonable. Fine, I’ll get it. Figure I’ll get 24 rolls, that’ll last me a while. It’s not like I have any inconsistencies or whatnot.
A day later, W.B. Mason sent me an e-mail. The toilet paper was delivered to my front door.
Aces. Or should I say, Deuces.
I get home, and there’s a box – no, let me rephrase that, there’s a BOX in front of my door. Big box. Big, big box.
Okay. Bring it inside.
Open it up.
There’s 96 rolls of toilet paper in this box.
Wait, this has to be a mistake.
I checked the receipt. No mistake.
Yep. I paid for what I thought was a box of 24 rolls — and I received FOUR TIMES as many rolls as that.
I haven’t had this much use for toilet paper since the days when I was a kid and my parents owned two non-housebroken German shepherds. Yikes.
Well, if nothing else, I’ve got enough bathroom tissue to survive this pandemic … the next pandemic … and maybe three more pandemics after that.
Okay, let’s get this joke out of the way right now.
So I put one roll of this new toilet paper in my dispenser. And remember, kids, the paper goes over the front, not in the back.
Great. Now what do I do with 95 remaining rolls?
Well, somehow I found space in various closets and bathroom cabinets to store them. Barely.
96 rolls of toilet paper. Holy shit.
Well, I need to find some usage for this.
Maybe I can turn this into some papier-mache artwork project. Uh, no.
I know, I know … I’ll take it to the basketball game and when the home team scores, I’ll toss it onto the court!
Or maybe, since Halloween is around the corner, I can go to my local showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and hand out 95 rolls of toilet paper that the audience can throw at the screen at just … the … right … moment. You know, that moment when Dr. Scott bursts through the wall like he’s the bastard child of R2-D2 and the Kool-Aid Man.
Or maybe I’ll just sell the rolls on Craigslist. How does $2.50/roll sound? Oh, you think that’s steep? Bro, that moment when you’re sitting on the porcelain throne, doing your best imitation of Rodin’s “The Thinker,” and you reach for a roll to clean up … only to find the little cardboard tube … $2.50/roll is gonna be a bargain. Ha.
Well, at this point, I’ll just keep the rolls. All 96 of them.
Well, 95 and 7/8ths. Because when you gotta go …
“There’s two different types of toilet paper”
But wait, there’s more: “Family cloth,” in a pinch.
I didn’t get that much , but yeah, living alone, I’m still good with supply I got in the Spring of 2020. It will last me through for another 6 months.
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