Day 941: The Great Toilet Paper Incident

Those who are aware of my experiences with the natives know that I have witnessed more than my fair share of construction and destruction, achievements and failures, hope and disappointment and all things in between whilst among their kind.  Those who are just joining me for the very first time, please allow me to digress and explain my account(s) of the natives and their behavior: they are heathens.  Uncivilized in every sense of the word and exhibit barbaric and crude tendencies.  They also don’t listen well.  To anyone, but to me, more specifically.  As the date suggests, my observation of the natives, or rather care of the little heathens, has continued thus for 941 days.  941. Days.  Many a good man has been driven mad in one-third the time.  And me?  I’m not completely mad.  Not yet, anyway.

However, the natives try DAILY to force me into an I-love-me-jacket and a room with some nice padded walls.  They are persistent and will stop at nothing in achieving their goals, which, I suppose is good in some rare cases, however, in the case of the natives against me, their persistence is taken as a negative, not a positive.

And what, do you ask, is the reason for today’s record of observation?  Ha!  A feat of epic proportions!

For the past ninety-two days, the natives have been under strict indoor latrine use – that is, they have been relieved of the use of all disposable undergarments and MUST use the indoor latrine in its place.  If you have not already read the previous post, please do, it’s a hoot.  If you have, you are well aware of the capabilities of the natives and how quickly they can move.  And sling pee.  Across.  A. Room.  But, I digress.

The natives’ indoor latrine use has progressed to a point that they no longer require adult supervision when using the potty.  That’s right, we don’t accompany them to the latrine.  If we do, we get politely asked, or even not so politely demanded, to “Leave them alone.”  Modesty is apparently very important to our humble natives.  Several trips have been taken, many days have passed of perfect potty use.  All of it sounds hunky dory, right?


Unassisted potty use leads to “other” activities in the indoor latrine.  What other activities?  I’m so glad you’ve asked.  Let’s start with a normal infraction: hand washing.  Now, no human being needs to wash their hands for fucking twenty minutes.  The tribe pays for its piped in water and there’s no need to piss it down the drain for excessive hand-washing – or rather water activities.  Apparently, Wednesday thinks that it is great fun to splash the water in the sink and cake soap on her hands until the sink is more than half full of water and her hands look like a fucking plaster cast.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic that the natives are so exuberant in their personal hygiene, I just wish they would use less water doing it.

Another activity that is a product of unassisted potty use is the investigation of the indoor latrine for the feline wildlife.  Yes, this is another infraction worthy of blood pressure levels being raised to dangerous heights.  In addition to playing with the granules of the indoor wildlife latrine, the natives have found it to be great fun to climb on top of the apparatus which is definitely not rated for their weight.  These infractions are usually worth a good scolding and assisted potty use for the remainder of the latrine visit.

One would think that after these incidents that one would at least check on the natives perhaps once during their potty ritual.  Maybe?

Wrong.  So fucking wrong.

Because no words could ever tell a story like this image can, I give you exhibit A: the only image you need to see to get an understanding for the, if you’ll excuse the pun, shit-show that was about to commence.


This afternoon, whilst attempting to get caught up on chores around the tribal abode, this happened.  I assume, mostly because she was quickly ratted about by her elder sibling Tuesday, that Wednesday was to blame for the mess which shall be henceforth referred to as the Great Toilet Paper Incident.

The tribal leader, after performing her chores, retired to the tribal living area where Tuesday and Wednesday had scattered the contents of two entire board games about the room.  The games were Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders and are immaterial to this  account, but for those who need details, there they are.  Tuesday, the great taddler of them all, appeared and ratted out her younger sibling stating that she had made a mess of the latrine with the toilet paper.  Then, Wednesday appeared, with a perfectly good, new roll of the paper and presented it as though it were a fucking tribute.  At this point, a line of toilet paper had found its way out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

The tribal leader sent me to assess the damage and this image is what was seen.  Now, both the tribal leader and I had a difficult time hiding our mirth at the site of the mess because we did not want the natives to think that the crime was not serious – indeed it was, however, this shit (pardon the pun again) is funny.

After admonishing the natives, never, NEVER to do this again, the toilet paper was scooped up disposed of.   A few things can be learned from this little life lesson:

1. Wednesday is not to be trusted, under any circumstances.  She’s a ninja.  An uncontrollable, impish Buddha-like ninja and she strikes when least expected, quickly and quietly.

2. We can always count on Tuesday to rat out her younger sibling.  Honestly, the girl doesn’t know when to lie to save her own hide.

3. A roll of toilet paper can be piled onto the floor in under 5 minutes – it’s like a fucking math problem – you figure out the rate at which the paper was unrolled and how many sheets were lost.

Yes, each day is an adventure, none of them like another.  And the natives? Shit, they just keep getting smarter and smarter.  When they figure out how to work together, we’re screwed.  Until, then, I will endeavor to step up my efforts to stay two steps ahead of them.  Ok, I’ll settle for one.  One step ahead.

After all this, what do we have?  A funny story.  And a shit load of toilet paper in a bag.


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