Tissue Issue
By John R. Greenwood
My advanced age has me questioning everything these days. It's four o'clock in the afternoon. Do I want regular or decaf? It's a bit cool outside; do I need a hat? Should I get the two-year extended warranty on that $40 toaster? The examples are endless. Here's the one that broke the camel's back and sent me to the laptop to vent my frustration.
It was the dead of winter, and the thermometer had displayed a negative attitude for several days. We were due to make our bi-monthly pilgrimage to BJ's for our survival basics; cases of water with tiny bubbles for Mrs. G., a 5-gallon pail of Metamucil for me, and a refrigerator-size package of toilet tissue with the squeezable bear on the front. With the mercury well below the freezing mark and fifty years of marriage behind us, Mrs. G. thought it might be a good time to send me out into the world alone. How could I mess up if I had her list in my hand? A list beautifully penned in cursive taught by the lovely Sisters of Notre Dame. I was excited to prove I could handle a solo mission.
After checking to be sure I had my BJ's Card, off I went. With my chest puffed out and a little swagger in my step, I grabbed one of those pickup-size shopping carts and headed for the toilet tissue. Mrs. G. made it clear there was a $4.00 coupon if you bought two packages. She had so much confidence in my abilities she didn't even write that on the note. I spotted the tissue aisle and made a beeline. I'd no sooner parked my cart in front of the pallets when my head began to hurt. The list clearly read "Two Charmin," but nothing more. There was no additional information telling me whether to get the 32=128 or 30=180 size? The photograph at the top of the page shows the wrapping of two packages.
Do we use the Mega or the Mega XL? I remember seeing Ultra Soft, but I'm confused now. I started to sweat. I paced back and forth like a caged lion. I swear a woman snickered as she passed behind me. No way would she allow her man loose in BJ's by himself. It was time to be a man and make a life-altering decision. I pulled down two packages of the Mega XL's. I wore XL shirts, so it just made sense. Little did I know my solo trips to any big box store might have begun and ended on the same day.
What I would discover later that month when we broke into the new supply was I'd made a horrific mistake. The Mega XLs would not fit in the in-wall tissue holder. If we were to continue as a Mega XL couple, I'd have to blow out the sheetrock and install a special Mega XL toilet tissue holder. I pouted for weeks at my lack of professionalism. Why didn't I know there was a Mega and a Mega XL. I'd always believed Mega was king of the mountain. I was going to have to re-learn everything.
There is a semi-happy ending to this story. Fortunately, we have a second bathroom. That one is considered mine. Rest assured that any marriage that lasts five decades has two bathrooms. As (good) luck would have it, my bathroom has zero wall space, so I have one of those free-standing toilet tissue holders that can hold a Mega XL. In fact, I'll bet when they add a Mega XXL and Mega XXXL size, and I grab one by mistake, we'll still be ok—as long as I buy two and one is a plain old Mega 32=128.
Oh no, I see they added new, wavy/easy tear rolls to the lineup. I better grab a 1500-count Tylenol 2-pak.
Happy Shopping.
