Tissue issue...

I'm an under person myself. That's the way my mother did it and I just carried on the tradition. For years and years and years. Through one marriage, one kid, and some years of living alone, it was under. Just seemed right.

Until I let this guy I married share my bathroom. His mommy was an over person, so ergo, it only followed... etc. At first, I didn't say anything - just changed it and put it back on the right way, figuring he'd get the message. Nnnnnnnah, didn't happen. And that's how it all starts, you know - those little things.

So over a period of time, I grew weary and lazy, moved on to bigger and better battles, and relinquished control of le toilette papier... temporarily. He should have paid attention, the man didn't know how good he had it.

I don't remember now exactly what prompted it, perhaps that nagging feeling of not being heard and slowly having one's boundaries being neglected, but I clearly remember the night, as I was about to avail myself of said hygienic material, that I blew a gasket, screeched like a banshee, and threatened severe bodily harm if ever I saw the TP over on the roll again! I wailed something about nothing being mine anymore, not even the stupid toilet paper, and I know the man thought I had clearly lost my ever-loving mind!!

I know, I know, I shouldn't complain - at least he replaced the empties, right? Well, he still replaces them, and he should - I'm not the only one using the stuff, you know. He humors me now, though, and does it my way. Whattaguy!

I'm still an under person.