I wouldn’t say I’m OCD, fussy or pedantic, having things to be ‘just so’. I do like my clothes folded in certain ways, I still sleep with a security blanket, and I do get pleasure at seeing something organised really well, especially using colour coding, neat piles and curly handwriting. When my husband doesn’t fold the towels nicely in the linen cupboard, the corner of my eye quivers, but I simply fix it up and go on my way (maybe I casually mention it).
This is the issue of which way to have the toilet paper roll on the holder. Over the top or underneath?
If they see it wrong while sitting on the john, they will change it over to what they deem it ‘should’ be. I saw an article come up on Facebook the other day instructing the correct way had been proven by a viewing of the original blue prints of the toilet which showed the toilet paper hanging over the top. Probably a gag – but people care about this, people argue about this. It’s a place we go to expel all the things our body doesn’t need, and we really take the atmosphere of that prism personally.
This is something I honestly could not give a crap about. (Pun intended). (Yes I was thinking about this while changing the empty roll as I sat in solitude on the S-bend). I thought this would be something I would care about to the point I actually thought, oh god am I happy with my choice? I’m going to start thinking about it, I don’t want to start thinking about it, I don’t want a preference. It was as though I should care; the peer pressure was caving in.
But I couldn’t care, I tried to care, but I really don’t. It’s as though all the choices, stresses and thoughts ticking over in my head every minute of every day, ever swirling around come to a point of muted silence when I look at the toilet paper, as if it’s saying, ‘It’s OK, I got this. I’m one thing you don’t have to worry about.” I genuinely feel liberated at not caring about this. I got 99 problems, and this isn’t one. I’m so happy. The toilet paper is my spirit animal.