TMI Thursday (and an apology)

Not to worry; I’ve already slapped myself across the face repeatedly for being an asshole blogger. Work has been crazy, what with the short week (made even shorter by a SNOW DAY on Tuesday and a 2 hour delay on Wednesday–I love working for the county!). I spent the weekend making delicious and not-too-horrible looking red velvet cakes and picking dog hair out of marshmallow fondant (it was more fun that it sounds). Also, I played around on Steve’s drums a little bit.

He broke the news that I couldn’t be the singer in his fake band because he’s heard me at karaoke and he doesn’t think I’m good enough. Bastard.

Moving on. It is once again time for TMI Thursday, and although I’ve talked about pubic hair, rats, and not getting hit on while smelling of baby pee, I have yet to talk about what I think about while sitting on the toilet. Allow me to enlighten you.

Last night I was sitting on the toilet, smack dab in the middle of a satisfying post-work #1, and staring at the empty roll of toilet paper.
Dammit.

Some, when faced with this dilemma, would rail against a spouse or a roommate. As I live alone, I know that I am solely responsible for the predicament I find myself in. I considered my options.

Option 1: Attempt to ‘shake’ or ‘drip’ dry. This seems to work well for guys, but I have never found much success with this method.

Option 2: Waddle, pants bunched around my ankles, to the hall closet to retrieve another roll. This would seem the likeliest course of action, were it not for the cold temperature of the house, the possibility of dripping urine on my pants, and the probability of a cold/wet dog nose making contact with my bare bum.

Option 3: Use a washcloth. Convenient, and, in my desperate reasoning, environmentally friendly. I equate it to the use of cloth diapers.

Ultimately, I went with Option 3. I figured that, with judicious use, I could get 4 to 8 uses (not including number two, obviously–I’m not an animal) out of a single washcloth, folded into quarters, before said washcloth would need to be laundered. This would save both toilet paper and water, as I do subscribe to the “if it’s yellow, let it mellow” school of thought. I can’t really let more than 2 yellows mellow, if you know what I mean, without running the risk of clogging my finicky toilet.

I’m not quite ready to make the permanent switch; I still have some wrinkles to iron out, including:

  • coming up with a system for keeping track of which quarters of the cloth have been used
  • making the distinction between bathing and wiping washcloths
  • tactfully warning guests away from washcloths currently ‘in use;’ and last but not least
  • keeping Ernie from consuming ‘in use’ washcloths

I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

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