My husband and I are feuding ~ a bloodless, passive-aggressive war of wills.
Issuing blame to the person who fired the first salvo would depend on who you ask. Of course, I point the accusing finger at him.
I hypothesize that the average male, being able to stand for half of his bathroom duties (I said ‘dootie”!), is clueless about how much tissue a female would prefer to use to dabbed her Lady Bits after her sit-down.
Let me be clear… it’s more than two squares of Charmin (or whichever your brand choice), even if it is 2-ply.
Apparently my husband isn’t aware of this proclivity, and instead of replacing a nearly spent roll of toilet paper, he’ll leave me the dregs. Any paper deficit unclear until I’m in an indelicate situation. Any full replacement rolls being in the linen closet, and out of arm’s reach.
Hence the feud.
I’m of the school of thought that once the roll is down to a borderline amount, I say hang a new roll while still offering the last of the old one.
If it’s debatable that there’s enough left for proper application, I won’t replace the roll, waiting to see if he will. I do get a new one for me, while still leaving him what he felt was adequate for my purposes.
The extent of our feud made evident recently when the overhead light in our master bathroom burnt out, a predicament I was unaware of until later in the day. The skylight lets in enough natural light that turning on the overhead isn’t necessary during the day. Apparently the Mister knew the light was out, and theoretically morning time restraints didn’t permit him an opportunity to install a new bulb until that night when it was dark outside.
The following exchange let my husband know I was mindful of his past paper crimes…