When the last role of Charmin fell

I was mowing, probably for the last time this season, when I saw it. 

The whole reason for the mowing in the first place was to mulch all the leaves that were falling.  I explect things to fall.  Mulch, mulch, mulch. 

I wasn’t expecting this.  It could have hit me, for cryin’ out loud.

I remember that June morning just a few days before Kylie’s grad party.  We woke up, sipped our coffee.  One of us looked out the window.  One of us screamed.

Toilet paper.

I think of those adolescent boys now, acne faced in the moonlight, adrenaline pumping, rolling their cars up without headlights, tossing the roles high into the pine boughs, sneaking away, stifling laughter, spending their hard earned money on…

…toilet paper.

They could have done a better job.  I salvaged 21 rolls.  At the grad party I encouraged guests to use as many squares as they liked.

Now she’s in Mexico, and I’m dodging


I’m going to Mexico soon.  I’ll bring this for her.  She can squeeze it.



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3 Responses to When the last role of Charmin fell

  1. david says:

    She’ll probably need it in Mexico, eh?

  2. Now I know we don’t talk enough. You’re going to Mexico? When? Is that why your’e out of the office ’til Tuesday?


    TP-ing is such stuff of nostalgia. And of squeezable softness.

  3. Jocelyn says:

    Okay, that last comment was me. Don’t go thinkin’ Byron would ever read a blog willingly.

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