Archive for January 2008
Roll One For Me
Few things are as thrilling in an otherwise exciting life, as to walk into my bathroom and see a short roll on the wall. This presents an opportunity to reload with the pull coming from under, rather than over. I usually exhaust the short roll, whether or not it’s ready, simply to enjoy a victory in the domestic competition of Roll Reversal.
Now, it is most likely understood that to install the roll with the pull on the top is a thriftier method than pulling it from below. I am sure there is some statistical evidence to prove it. When pulling a strand from above, it tends to break off too soon. From below, I get as many sheets as desired without being hindered by gravity. A thick barrier is my preference, so the monetary waste is not a concern. Trying to save on paper is outweighed by the need not to be hygienically-challenged.
With regard to paper towels, there seems to be the same thinking. She likes over, I like under; causing me to spend more time waiting for the slight turn of her head, giving me the chance to redirect the next roll. It may seem insignificant to you, but to me it is important. The pull of the roll makes all the difference. I must win. But, the battle never ends. There is no winner. This conflict probably takes place within numerous households all over the world.
Differences in toothpaste tube-squeezing are not as pronounced as the installation of the roll. I like to squeeze the tube from below, forcing the paste toward the top, and she likes to squeeze it from the top, forming the tube into some gnarling, twisted plastic gob, leaking stuff from all sides. That waste offsets my paper abuse. Even so, she’s still winning. The amount of paper used during the lifetime of a tube of toothpaste, is far more significant. I am causing more of a financial burden than she.
When visiting family or friends, I never take it upon myself to change the direction of their rolls; usually refraining from using their facilities, unless there is no alternative. If the unwelcome opportunity presents itself and a roll is encountered going in an anti-direction, I just let it go. Changing it is not my place. It’s not my home. They can continue the economic pull as long as they want. Spend the savings on a softer seat.
Public restrooms are the pits. The worst are those that offer a few sheets here and there, in those little, silver dispensers that make you pull out a square at a time. The management of whatever stall you are using, really doesn’t care about your comfort as much as they care about paper savings. Avoid them, especially the ritzy office buildings in cities. Those building owners have their own bathrooms, and really don’t understand the burden. It’s best to just buy a large cork and avoid public restrooms altogether.
If you are like me and feel the need to redirect a particular roll at any particular time, try to be discreet. The person causing your irritation may be serious about the pull of their roll. Being caught changing it could prove embarrassing and lead to difficulties in a relationship. Make sure you whistle or otherwise make a great deal of noise during the switch. They may suspect your intentions and be listening for the click of the dispenser.
Sorry, I have to stop now. I think she hears my typing, and may know the transfer is being made. I don’t need to bicker about the over or under.
With Love,
Bake My Fish
Rome Wasn’t Filth in the Day
with one comment
Our bathroom habits are routine. We have privacy whenever and wherever we want. There is never a necessity, other than a serious emergency, for us to use an outside facility
. During the realm of the Roman Empire your routine would have been challenged. Sitting on the bowl in the wide open, waving at Julius Caesar (he made such a great salad) during a Triumph through The Aventine, would be a stunning scene in today’s world. Considering the Roman diet was decidedly higher in grains and fiber than ours, these holes would have been put to good use.
I can’t imagine sitti
ng on a pot with the person next to me, scrunch-faced and chatting as if we’re waiting for a bus. No walls, no barrier, just our bloomers around our ankles, shooting the breeze. It’s tough enough remaining quiet when there are stalls. In the open, you can’t be mum. The guy sitting on the adjacent hole may want to talk. You can’t be rude and avoid the conversation. Otherwise you will be considered a jerk. I suppose it was fairly awkward reading slate tablets, rather than the newspaper or a magazine, but without the solitude, you had to lay down the newsoid and listen.
I’ve written about the over and under TP roll. Sitting in the open during number two, beats any lack of proper materials or the direction of the pull. Are the mores of today any better for us than during the days of open potties? We think it’s nasty, but for the Romans it was the norm. Louise Pasteur wasn’t around, so they didn’t really know about bacteria and stuff. Our exposed genitalia wasn’t considered as naughty and disgusting as now. We were humans, with normal needs. Society didn’t really care that we emitted waste.
Fortunately the lack of stalls eliminated most of the bathroom graffiti. It is important to note; however, that t
he series of privy poems about The Young Man From Nantucket or Azores, originated during the reign of Caligula. The felt-tipped pen wasn’t invented before this period. Potty Laureates had to be creative.
A friend came into my office the other day to discuss “Urinal Protocol.” I do agree with him that indeed we have developed habits. If a man walks into an empty bathroom, which receptacle does he use? If there is more than one user, with more than one trap, where do you line up? In Ancient Rome it was no problem. For us it is
perplexing.
Imagine a day at the Coliseum during a Gladiator/Wild Beast massacre with 50,000 spectators drinking wine, eating whole grain bread smothered in Garum, a hunk of cheese, and some kind of carcass from the stadium vendors; all of which were very likely bacterial-infested. I would guess they might want to visit the facilities on occasion. Now, I could probably live with the idea of sharing a booth with another person, given the culture of the time. But, 50,000? I’m glad to have been born a Boomer.
With Love,
Bake My Fish
Written by Bake My Fish
January 30, 2008 at 10:58 pm
Posted in Facts, Food, Health, History, Humor, Roman Empire, Rome, Social Commentary
Tagged with Facts, Food, Health, History, Humor, Roman Empire, Rome, Social Commentary