My husband is a bear of a man. A gentle giant, if you will. He can lift things, push things, pull things, drag things, and smack things that were broken so hard they start to work again. He can milk a cow from 80 feet away, while barbecuing a brisket, and mixing up some cocktails. There is nothing he can’t do, really.
Except change the toilet paper roll. This, for some reason unbeknownst to all, is his downfall. This one thing is just. Too. Complicated.
You have to push one side of the toilet paper holder (I have no idea WTF the actual mechanism is called), then pull it out from the other side. Then there’s the complicated pulling off of the empty roll, and THEN, you have to throw THAT away and put ANOTHER one on!! It’s like a 5 year old in calculus class.
So my husband doesn’t bother. He is TECHNICALLY not leaving me an empty roll when there’s still a piece left on it. No cardboard can be seen, so it’s the NEXT person’s job to change it. It’s brilliant. (Oh, and before you smirk and think “What if he’s the next one in there?” I will tell you that he will just put a new roll on top of that empty one.)
So what is a girl to do with that last scrap of toilet paper? I COULD do what I’ve done in public bathrooms when the only toilet paper that was left in the stall was on a roll just like this, and use it to dab my, uh, nethers… (shut up, you’ve done it, too).
I could use it as a makeup wipe, or write “Help me!” on it and throw it out in the yard and see if anyone calls the cops.
I can stuff it with candy corn and make a paper-copia.
I can roll it towards the kids Indiana Jones toy.
I can use it for a giant coin sorter.
Other than that, I got nothing.
I mentioned to my husband once after 4 times of changing it in 6 weeks why he doesn’t change it, and he yelled at me and said he has only NOT done it 2-3 times in 2 years! He also wouldn’t speak to me for 3 hours.
So now, I take them and throw them into his soap drawer. Unfortunately, it hasn’t had the effect I thought it would. i just recently found out that he thought I was saving it for the kids’ preschool class.
I thought about putting the date on them, but I can imagine the conversation:
“So, just to prove that you don’t change it, and I’m not crazy, I’ve been saving them, AND putting the date on them when I have to change it.”
Husband, backs away slowly: “Glad you’re not crazy.”
It’s either that, or gluing them to his truck.
Carrie Wible is a loving wife to a non-toilet paper roll changing husband, and mother to 3 great kids. She is a freelance content writer and blogger, musician, and a lover of the sushi. www.carrielouwho.wordpress.com