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Toilet Paper Re-visited

Somewhere under the sink, where I can’t quite reach from the toilet with my toe, we’ve got toilet paper.  Lots of it.  Bounteous rolls of toilet paper lest we ever get caught where I’m sitting and find ourselves glaring at the empty holder and wondering who’s neck to wring.  Only there’s a small trash can beside me, and instead of seeing the ususal sketchy piece of dental floss, a few stickers I’ve pulled from the bottom of my shoe and a six-month old bandaid clinging to the bottom, there is a crumply mass of toilet paper billowing over the sides.  

Only I remember what led to this perfectly usable pile, which I am, at this point, grateful to pull from. 

The giggling had come first.  Followed immediately by the scurrying of two sets of barefeet over head.  And then a double thump as they leaped off the last stair and whizzed past me in the kitchen.  Both t-shirted, underweared and newly tailed.  My daughter’s face was pink from laughing.  She twirled and asked, “how do you like our tails?” And with a brief glance I quibbled, “I like your t…”  Only my son came into full view, and his toilet paper tail caboosed out the back of his undies some 30 feet.  The likes of which we’d never seen.  And well, you know…probably won’t again.  Until tomorrow.

So…Goodness…where was I? 

Ahh, yes–heh heh.

Still sitting here.  Clutching my recycled toilet paper.  And making note not to walk out with a tail!


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