The Ticking Tissue Bomb

There are two kinds of chores in my house: assigned chores and conditional chores.  We don’t actually have a lot of assigned chores.  Buddy mows the lawn, I do the laundry and we alternate on emptying the litter.  Easy-peasy.  Other things, like cleaning, for instance, are group efforts or depend on whose friends/family are coming over.  But a lot of things fall under the “if you used the last [disposable item], then you replace it with a new one” rule.  This includes napkins, paper towels, trash bags, toilet paper, and tissues.  Generally speaking, we’re pretty good about this rule.  Okay, sometimes I have to be reminded that I took the last paper towel and forgot to get a new roll, but in honestly, it’s rarely a problem.

Except for the tissue box in the master bath.  When one of us gets down to the last tissue, since it is usually pulled out with the second-to-last tissue, we end up leaving it sitting on the box for the next use.  And sometimes it sits there.  For days.

Me?  I am usually in a hurry in the morning because I’m always running late.  I’ll use toilet paper in those cases.  Or, if I’m feeling a little vindictive, I’ll use the TP just to try to make Buddy get a new box.  But I have a good-ish reason!  Sometimes [more times than I like at all], he takes the last tissue and doesn’t replace the box!  If I replace the box, he might not even realize that he forgot.  So I leave it, occasionally and very pointedly taking the empty box out of the metal box cover and putting it very near his sink.  This is what we call “wife psychology.”  We try to train them to want to do what we want them to do rather than nagging at them about it.  It usually doesn’t work because husbands don’t get mind-reading powers with their wedding rings.  Still, we try.

Anyway, the other day we had a showdown with the tissue that went like this:

Buddy took the second-to-last tissue and placed the last one on top of the box.  I looked at it ruefully.

Me: “I guess I’ll be using toilet paper for the next couple of days.”

Buddy: “You do that too?”

Me: “When we get divorced, this is going to be cited in the paperwork.”

Buddy: [laughing hysterically]

Me: “You don’t understand!!!  It sat there for 2 weeks!!!  We went through 14 rolls of toilet paper!!!!!

Buddy: [bent over the sink laughing, in much pain from the hilarity]

Me: “Why do you do that, by the way?”

Buddy: “My reasoning is ‘Jo needs to blow her nose more than me because she’s sick more often.’  I save it for you in an act of heroism.”

Me: Wouldn’t it be more heroic to just use the last one and get another box?

Buddy:  Hmmm…no.

Me: [crying from laughing now, contemplating redoing my face regimen] YOUR HEROISM KNOWS ONE BOUND!  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


We are made for each other.


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