I was sitting on the toilet.
Don’t imagine it. Just know it happened for the purposes of the story.
I called out. “Clara! Can you bring me a roll of toilet paper?”
“Sure,” she said. Enthusiastically, even. I listened to her footsteps as she ran across the house and up the stairs.
A moment later, she was standing on the opposite side of the door. “Sorry, Dad. I couldn’t find any toilet paper,” she said.
This, of course, was ridiculous. Seeing the pandemic coming in early February, we stocked up on toilet paper and many other things before the supply chains stretched and broke. As a result, we still have a pile of pandemic toilet paper.
“I know we have some,” I said. “Lots of it. In the bathroom closet.”
“I looked,” she said. “I didn’t see any. But it’s okay. I got you this.”
I know. You’re wondering what she was holding in those small hands. So was I. What could she have possibly brought to me in lieu of a roll of toilet paper?
The door opened a tiny bit, her little hand reached through, and in that hand was a single square of toilet paper. One four-by-four inch double ply.
“Here, Dad,” she said, sounding quite proud of her solution.
“Clara!”
“You’re welcome!” she said, releasing the square of toilet paper, allowing it to flutter to the ground at my feet. Then she was off.
I later confirmed that there are nearly 100 rolls of toilet paper in the closet, plus extra rolls under the sink and sitting atop the toilet tank. A veritable bounty of toilet paper. It’s almost impossible to stand in that bathroom and not see a roll of toilet paper.
