Posted on October 4, 2009 - by Cate

The Case of the Disappearing Toilet Paper

It was dark and cold. My mind was fuzzy, my eyes unable to focus. I shivered as I tried to shake myself into consciousness. I tossed and turned trying to get comfortable. What time is it? I wondered. Rearranging the pillows, listening for the familiar sounds of the house, nothing. My window, almost always open, usually offered up the sounds of nature but nothing.

I started pondering the meaning of all this — the lack of anything going on. What time is it? My mind turned to unfinished business. Once my brain kicks in you can kiss going back to sleep goodbye. It’s usually a rehash of the previous day or the “to do list” of the impending day or some big issue hanging over my head that I have yet to resolve to my satisfaction.

I will gnaw at a problem until I can make sense of it and resolve it. I stretch. It occurs to me that I am warm, under my covers and that altering that state was less than desirable. But here come my jumbled thoughts. Must… put…them…in…order.

What’s that? That noise? That tension? My body, suddenly alert, is now fully awake as is my brain. Somewhere in the dark I heard something. I felt this pressure. I am now uncomfortable. There was a call. Was it nature?

It was Mother Nature. I had to pee REALLY badly. I tried to ignore the call and shifted position. Nope, that wasn’t helpful. So now, the obstacle course in the dark to bathroom. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Should I put on my glasses? This was quite the question each morning.

You see, if I put on my glasses, the meaning behind that action was far reaching. It meant that after my “visit” I would make my way downstairs to the coffee pot and begin my day. If not, I would simply go to the bathroom and wind up back under my comforter. Vision has nothing to do with this decision — I can’t see in the dark regardless.

I put my glasses on and make my way to the bathroom. I won’t be graphic here. Suffice to say, I “relieved” myself. And then I did what most people do, I reached for the toilet paper.

sidenote: mounted in such a way that the sheet is dispensed from the top of the roll (over) not the bottom of the role (under) which always produces groping. Why doesn’t this make sense to everyone?

I reached for the toilet paper and guess what, there was no toilet paper. It was gone. Where did it go? How does such a thing happen? To my knowledge, toilet paper has no mobile properties. There was no cardboard roll remaining to indicate that we had simply run out. And yet, the entire roll that I knew in my heart of hearts had been there the day before was no longer.

Was I shocked or surprised? No. Disappearing toilet paper is a common phenomenon in this house. No. The house is not haunted. If it were I would hope our ghost would be more creative about taking things than something like toilet paper. No, more like thievery was afoot. A thief prompted by a lack of motivation to hike down to the supply closet was probably the culprit of this heinous act.

The most common reaction to the phenomenon of disappearing toilet paper is one of irritation. In the early morning hours, post “relief” it’s downright annoying, as it means I will have to either wake someone up or somehow try to shake myself free of drips so I can gingerly navigate in the dark to the cabinet in the bathroom that warehouses supplies. I contemplated my options and decided on the latter.

I shake (thank God it’s dark and no one will be the wiser — I am certain a sight that would scar even my mom who loves me unconditionally). I do a bow-legged prance to the cabinet. I open the door and grope around for a roll. NADA. I close my eyes and flip on the light. I squint and try to focus. I look into the cabinet — not a roll in sight. Now what?

I look over at my husband, snoring in spite of wearing his C-Pap machine. Waking him from a dead sleep would take half an hour. I decide to prance my way down the hallway in the dark toward the culprit. The TP thief.

I will know immediately if this is the case because the thief will leave a tell-tale sign. The thief never mounts the stolen toilet paper. The thief always leaves the stolen article on the floor by their toilet or behind the toilet on the lid. Probably can’t navigate the spring loaded holder in the dark. Because the thief always operates in the dark…

Even in the dark, I spot the plump roll on the floor of their bathroom. I tip-toe closer and pick it up. I prance my way back down the hall and into my bathroom. I take care of business. I mount my roll of toilet paper. Revenge is mine, I murmur. A reverse sting is underway. I smirk. I will be downstairs sipping on my coffee when I know I will hear the inevitable groan and the shout that requests a roll of toilet paper.

I will take my time…