This morning, my lady woke up and announced, “I have to tell you something." I sort of held my breath, as with the my lady, god only knows what the first thought of her day will be. Then she announced, "We have no toilet paper.”
While alarm bells sounded inside my head, I politely replied, “Thank you for mentioning.”
I had to tell my mind to get the message to my bowels, “Abort launch! Abort launch! This is not a drill!” Soon my entire body responded with a sort of meditative mantra to defy the laws of nature, you know, clench thy buttocks.
God must have been smiling, for as I walked over to the local market, I picked up a giant bag of what seemed like 48 rolls of puffy white (or i could have taken blue) toilet paper whose label exuded the wonders of 4-ply weaving and comfort upon thy buttocks.
I am a man, all this ply and softness stuff doesn't register in my brain. We poop, smile and wipe. it is pretty simplistic. I don’t know anyone, nor have I ever had a conversation about toilet paper ply. The only time i might have thought about toilet paper was the old tours in England, where one could technically use that version toilet paper to do fine sanding of furniture or prep an auto for painting. English toilet paper was more akin to sandpaper, the reason escapes me as to why?
I digress. I had this large sack of toilet paper rolls that made me feel like Santa, proceeded to get my lady some croissants from the bakery and went up to the cashier.
My German must be getting better, as I thought I heard the woman say, “There is a sale on these, two for one.”
“Did you say I get two, for the price of one?”
I didn't care how ridiculous looking I was while carrying two giant sacks of toilet paper rolls and a tiny bag of croissants back into the house. The image of a stone age hunter of yesteryear, walking into the house, holding the two bags of paper high in the air, proud of myself, as if to say, “Who is the best toilet paper hunter in the world now?”
Of course I was thinking of a scene in the horrific movie, “Caveman” where my old next door neighbor, John “the tooz” Matuzak played the caveman. In the movie, the cavewoman was Barbara Bach, who went "ohh" and "ahh" over john's muscles...
I didn't get any "ohh" or "ahh," more of a death stare. Slowly I lowered the giant bags of elegant 4-ply softness. My lady sat there, looking at me like I was an idiot, “I said some toilet paper, not to buy the stores supply of it.”
I mentioned, “It was a 2 for 1 sale”
“How much was it?”
I gave off some number, that would get people from the USA clenching at the cost of normal Swiss toilet paper - be it 2, 3 or 4 ply softness.
“That is a good price.” She exclaimed, and gave me, (say with television VO announcer feel) the , “Head nod of female approval.”
Then I slipped in, “It is 4 ply!”
That is when I got a smile, as if any man would know the difference between 3 and 4 ply elegance, cushion and softness, while we wipe our derriere. It turns out women do.
Back to that sensor network, artificial intelligence world I go, thankfully a bit lighter…. have a great day...thankfully i don't have sh*t for brains.