There are two kinds of toilet paper: the good stuff and the other stuff. The good stuff is fluffy and squeezably soft while the other stuff is scratchy and noticably thin.
The good stuff has commercials where kids cram it under their clothes and suddenly become indestructible. They can run into other kids, play football, fall off buildings – all without a single scratch or bruise.
The other stuff doubles as sandpaper whenever I refinish furniture.
There are also two kinds of toilets: the low-flow kind and the good kind. The difference between these two is painfully obvious.
The office where I work has a low-flow toilet. Until recently, we had thin scratchy toilet paper. The kind you bought by the truckload from Costco. I think by the time you rang it up, they were paying you to take it from the store.
Then, one fateful day, the boss bought the good toilet paper. The rolls were so fat and fluffy they barely fit on the roller. I almost stuffed my pants with a few rolls and ran around the office, singing and daring the sharp desk corners to try something untoward.
But I didn’t.
Instead, lunch knocked at the proverbial door and I christened the new cushified toilet paper. From the first wipe, it was heaven. Pure bliss.
What a difference! I wondered if there was some aloe built in to that quilted velvet-on-a-roll.
After I concluded my business, I stood and sighed in great relief. I pulled my pants up, flushed and went to wash my hands.
I paused at the sink and glanced over. Uh-oh.
Three flushes and two plunges later, I exited the bathroom a wiser man.
Good toilet paper and low-flow toilets do not go together. Trust me.