10 Things to Do With Your TP Stash
Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash
We obviously didn’t apply much foresight to preparing for Covid-19, seeing how the shelves in every grocery store have been denuded of toilet paper, so in preparation for the aftermath (can’t do much about the stock market except cry) we need to develop a thoughtful plan for what to do with several metric tons of toilet paper now residing in each home across the land, not to mention what’s stashed under your office desks–Amazon knows who you are.
How could hoarding toilet paper be occurring, you ask? Surely in times of emergencies there are far more important grocery items to be concerned about than toilet paper–herewith politely referred to as “TP.”
Is there a study by the CDC establishing the number of necessary rolls per person required during less stressful time, say during tax season? Then magnified appropriately by the scale of the current panic? Is it true that under greater stress bowel activities increase? That’s the working theory apparently, given the empty shelves everywhere.
Since the hoarding of TP spans the country, a carefully designed epidemiological study (with control factors, fume masks, etc.) should be top on the list of important research. Where is Dr. Fauci when we need the dude? We should demand that Mike Pence lead the charge. Please don’t let his sidekick anywhere near this important.
However, being a professional planner by training, not to mention being of a nature to look beyond the short term relief, (so to speak) what is to come of the excess TP? During these stressful times, we all want to do our part, and in that spirit I offer the ten best ways to dispose of excess TP following the wisest of counsels, David the Letterman, who began the countdown tradition. Feel free to add it as you feel needed.
10. Wipe more than once. Twice, thrice? You may develop a sore spot, but you have an entire room of the stuff. Go crazy—invite the neighbors–although be sure to practice appropriate social distances and fumigation techinques.
9. Use the TP for making paper mache like we did in kindergarten when making those awful Statue of Liberty ‘sculptures’ our dear parents saved in their attic.
8. Generously wipe your dog’s hinny after each one of her dumps and squirts. She’ll love you for it–she doesn’t have to lick herself nearly as frequently between licking you–oh, sorry–no offense intended re. sanitary habits.
7. Use it as wrapping tissue for Christmas presents—hell, use it for any occasion. Easter’s coming soon. Neatly wrapped Easter eggs will be a hit with the younger crowd.
6. Store some rolls in the SUV for when the oil needs checking, or the dog’s barfs up her crunchies in the back seat. You didn’t let her ride up front, the precious little dear, did you? That’s worth another roll at least. Be prepared, I say.
5. Don’t be stingy – wipe more! Ten, twenty times; it’s a good forearm exercise. You can’t be too careful–think of your loved ones!
4. Speaking of which, how many times are they wiping? Are you keeping track? Institute a wiping survey throughout the household. No need to be the PC police–just take a position outside the throne room, hand a roll or several as needed and count what comes back. Easy peazy. Of course, if you find less than total compliance, you’ll need to send the culprit back in for a second ROUND, har har har. What fun.
3. Donate your TP stash to the Boy Scouts of America–I can’t tell you how much I missed the stuff back in those hard rain gonna fall camping days. Dig a hole? OK, I was good for the squat, but what about that back end itch? One boy in our troop tried some leaves–poison Ivy as it happened. And to think I went on to encourage my sons to enter that same fraught wilderness of no TP, for shame and forsooth.
2. Sell your tons of it at Nat’s games like one more concession. They’ll give you a break on the commission, I promise. Throw a roll or two up into the nosebleed sections as a marketing giveaway. Be the entrepreneur you were born to be!
1. Read Tribe On Homecoming and Belonging by Sebastian Junger. He makes a convincing argument disputing the folks buying armaments for the Armageddon to come. Then send a donation to the refugees of the world who need a lot more than just wipes.
There had to be a moral to this story, right?
I’m on a roll.
BTW, what happened to Covid-1 through 18? If I were Larry David, I’d be writing a series script about it. It’s a strong premise. Have your agent call mine. You can picture Bill the Cat about now—ack!