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I Knew I Should Have Gone to the Store Today...

Well, this isn't good.

I just used the last scrap of toilet paper in the whole house.

(Well, honestly, the last scrap and a couple of the next-to-last scraps, too. I don't want you to think I just used a half a square and called my ass 'clean'. I'm an optimist, but I'm a little better than that.)

Frankly, I wasn't sure that there was enough left to, um, do the job I needed done. But luckily, there was just enough to use, without resorting to anything 'creative'. Which is a relief. I don't know how the hell I'd have explained that kind of stain on the shower curtain.

'Well, gee, honey, I don't know how the dog got it all the way up there. Maybe... um, maybe she stood on the sink? I dunno. Bad dog!'

Anyway, the immediate crisis is over, but there's still trouble brewing. I'm just about to leave the house to play volleyball, and I won't be back for three hours. In the meantime, my wife will come home, and -- who knows? -- just might have the 'urge to purge', derriere-style. And as far as I know, she's unaware of our current predicament. Hell, I didn't know we were down to the last roll either, until I looked around for something to replace the empty with. But since I'm the one who took the last sheets, it's gonna be my ass that's in hot water over this.

(Well, in the literal sense, it might just be my wife's. If she can't find any suitable ass-paper substitute, she might just have to hop in the shower, and wash it all down the drain. I don't even want to think about the tub ring that would leave. Ick. But it's my ass that's gonna get in trouble, that much is for sure.)

Maybe I can find something to put in the bathroom to help her before I leave. Some sort of emergency TP substitute. But what's best? Kleenex? Too wispy. There's always the chance that stuff will rip and tear, and you'll end up with your bare fingers all up in your bidness. I don't think I could do that to her.

(Plus, she might save it, and try to wipe it on me when I come home, just to teach me a lesson. She's crafty like that.)

So what else? Paper towels? Maybe. I bet that Brawny guy wouldn't look so fucking smug if he knew what I was thinking of doing with his precious towels. Still, those things could get awfully rough. It's not quite like using sandpaper on your backside, but I imagine there'd be some chafing involved. Perhaps not something I want to burden my sweetie with. Especially since we all know who'd have to kiss that shit and make it better. I think I kiss my wife's ass quite enough as it is, thank you very much.

(Just kidding, honey pie. Love you!)

Well, shit. Now I gotta go, and I'm no closer to a solution. What can I put in there? A notebook? Wrapping paper? A Post-It pad? I'm at a loss. Damn.

So, I guess I'm gonna go, and just let her wing it. Hopefully, she'll see the problem before any unpleasantness happens. And now that I know, I'll stop off on the way home and grab a couple of rolls. You know, a sort of peace offering, in case she ends up having to do something regrettable before I get back.

I just hope it doesn't come to that. I actually like the shower curtain we have now. I'd hate to have to throw it out. Yuck.