Skip to main content

Not My Best Self

I got in a wrestling match with a toilet paper dispenser today.  

I know, I know.  I do more bathroom talk on here than my five-year-old at dinner.  But this blog is called the Not So Adventures, and that's all I've got for you.  Sorry.  Back to my TP story.

I was at church and was running late.  Seats in the sanctuary were quickly filling up, but I needed to...I was overhydrated and my nose was dripping.  You can't sniff your way through a sermon without freaking people out just a little.  So I ran into the bathroom and picked the nearest open stall.  Then my jacket zipper broke.  That has nothing to do with the story.  I just wanted to acknowledge it was a very frustrating period of my day.  My nose started really running, and I was desperate to blow it, so I tried to roll out some toilet paper.  The roll was jammed so tight in the dispenser, I could only turn it a 1/4 turn at a time, and I couldn't locate the end.  I'm turning and turning, thinking very unchurch like words, and my armpits are getting swampy because now I'm frustrated and really late.  I hate being late.  I finally just tore into the middle of the roll and begged some TP to come off.  I got a chunk the size of a quarter.  And then another quarter.  And another.  I briefly considered using a toilet seat cover, but determined that the absorption rate just wasn't there.  Five minutes later, I had enough quarter size chunks of TP to do something with and was finally starting to get the roll to give up its fight.  But then the toilet paper separated into two different layers. You've been there.  You know how frustrating it is.  Pull and the top layer breaks off, pull again, and the bottom layer breaks off.  Gahhhh!  It occurred to me the roll just needed to be taken outside and shot.  Except for the fact that it was stuck and not going anywhere.  I'm not a violent person.  Generally.  But I'd have shot the heck out of that TP roll today.

Then I went into the church sanctuary, sat down and learned about the nature of Jesus who, I bet, wouldn't want to shoot the toilet paper even if he did find it frustrating .  At which point, I felt very sheepish indeed.  But next time, I'm bringing Kleenex.      

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Advanced Placement

 Not to brag or anything, but I think we are raising some very advanced children.  At two-years-of-age, our girls have already worked out the art of manipulation and deflection.  It's the antithesis of endearing.   They went missing the other day - the girls did.  That's never a good situation.  They were in the house, and I knew they were in the house, but I couldn't see or hear them.  Silence is the loudest alarm system.  Fischer took action and found them both in my bathroom.   "MOM!" I met them in the hall.  Carter was covered in clumps and blobs of hand cream. "Emi did it," was her unsolicited response.   "No," I told her.  "I think you  did it." That night I got ready for bed and pulled out my one "self-care" splurge - my face cream .  It was in my drawer where I always keep it.  The lid was screwed on.  And it was empty, wiped clean.  "EmmmeerrrrrSON!" Guilty.  They were both ...

Little Bit Dicey

 This might be a little controversial.  I try to steer clear of such topics in this space, but it needs to be said.  Take it as you will, but know that it comes from a place of love, concern, and respect.  Here it is: there is a right  way to cut an onion. Now, I'm not saying this to try and get anyone's dander up.  I'm just saying it's a subject that needs to be addressed in kitchens across America.  There may be more than one right way to skin a cat (I can't say I've tested that), but the same does not hold true for onions.  Please, you can teach an old dog new tricks - learn how to properly cut an onion.  It will save you time, frustration, onion tears, and possibly a finger.     Now, since I'm still sitting here on blogspot like it's 2003, I'm not going to post any how-to videos, but I'll do the next best thing.  I'll paste a link right here .    Check it out.  Practice it.  Make it a habit.  T...

I Need A Cinderella

 I like to describe our house as very "lived in."  It sounds better than "dirty."  It is dirty.  And messy.  I clean all day long, but you'd never know.  My friend recently told me she hires a house cleaner.  It sounds dreamy, but it wouldn't work for us.  The cleaner would never be able to leave.  She'd never be done.  It's fine.  It's a phase.  Probably.   We were supposed to have guests for dinner the other week.  I know - it's a bold move inviting people over while we are in this stage of life.  Nonetheless, we did.  I was trying to get ahead of the mess while the kids were in bed and cleaned my floors the night before the dinner party.  The day of the dinner, everybody was sick so we had to postpone.   I decided I wasn't going to let a clean floor go to waste.  I was going to enjoy it for at least a weekend.  The challenge, I told myself, was simply to sweep things up after...