Hippie Toilet Paper

My life is raw insanity these days. The Dumpling is in Kindergarten and brings so many practice books home to read that our refrigerator is covered and we are forever behind in returning the right books. Sight words, glasses, dentist. This is why kids need two parents. We’re a killer team, but we don’t always get it all done. I would honestly pay to not bring those damn books home. Any price.

There’s an acre of dead vegetables in the back yard that I have to rip out and clean up. Add to that the laundry I neglect all week, the grocery shopping that needs to be done and the extremely valuable heirloom tomatoes that are ripe on my kitchen table. I’ll be canning tomorrow, in addition to everything else.

This broken heart of mine has become a pain in my already achy, ass. I don’t have time for tears and torturous dreams. It’s bad enough I’m getting up at 4:30 to run to the songs that make me sad. I hate losing sleep, but it helps and I’m coping. You do what you have to do to get to the other side of the shitty time you’re drowning in. I’m treading water.

Empty compliments and roses aren’t horrible, but they aren’t helpful either. A few dozen orgasms did dull the ache of missing him, but a bandaid can only help so much when you’re bleeding out.

I care too much about the person I am. I’m kind of amazing and it’s time I remembered that and quit wasting time with men destined to lower my standards and discount my self worth. Playboys are only fun until they’re not and it’s only a friend with benefits if he’s still your friend and there’s still benefits.

We read all the books on the refrigerator and I tucked my sleepy sweetheart in. I ran for an hour, took a bubble bath and put my favorite sheets on my bed. Went to brush my teeth and realized we were nearly out of toilet paper. I made a mental note to stop and get some on my way home the next day and fell into bed early.

I walked into the bathroom after I got home from work tonight and saw the empty toilet paper roll.

Fuck. Motherfucking fuck.

I have been fantasizing about being home on Friday afternoon, since Monday at 4:30 in the morning. This isn’t negotiable though, and I figure I’ll be lazy and go to the health food store right down the street. They have to have unbleached Charmin or something, right?

Hippies wipe too.

I tell the Dumpling to get her shoes on and she’s excited. She knows they have excellent treats. I know this damn toilet paper is going to end up costing me $40, but I am in absolutely NO mood to run into anyone I know and none of my friends shop at the overpriced hippie store.

I try to avoid the children at the door selling raffle tickets, then tell them I already bought one. I’m sorry, but that’s my least favorite thing in the world. I don’t want to be guilted into contributing just because it’s Friday and I don’t want to leave the house all weekend. No. I want to go home and I only came for toilet paper. Move aside, private school gamblers.

Five seconds in, the Dumpling has talked me into buying her a tiny gold-plated cheesecake. A minute later I found a piece of sushi grade albacore for dinner. One look at the price tags reminds me that we need to get the hell out of there, and fast.

We made our way to the paper products and goodness gracious, they think a whole lot of wiping their ass with unbleached, recycled paper. For the first time in my life, I find myself searching for the least expensive toilet paper. $6 for 4 rolls. For the record, this would cost .99 at the other store.

This is what I call a stupidity payment. When you know you could have twice as much toilet paper for your money but your lazy ass went to the hippie store just to avoid people.

I’ll just be over here, suffering the consequences of my lazy behavior and poor list making skills.

Wiping with what feels like a dollar store paper tablecloth.

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