Last
Roll of the Week
Working from home has its fun side, but no
one ever talks about the downsides.
Us freelancers know them all, and snigger
at ourselves behind the full-timers’ backs, but I intend to share some of these
less-than-charming secrets.
Since I can remember I’ve always had a
thing for 2-ply toilet paper. The ones with the Labrador puppies, to be exact.
I see them as a sign of luxury, and that all must be well in a household where
a pyramid of these rolls live.
I think we can all agree that 2-ply is a non-negotiable,
but when did that happen?! As a full-time working adult I never even hovered
near the crusty 1-ply rolls, but now, as a freelancer I spend a bit more time
in front of the toilet roll racks. And I weigh up my options: 1-ply and a
treat, or 2-ply and no treat? The 2-ply always wins (and my waist is loving me
for it).
My usage of toilet paper has increased
exponentially with the decline of my income.
I used to take loo paper for
granted. At an office it’s available at your beck and call, and you can drop it
like your bitch at any time of the day. Runny nose? No problem! Just use your
company’s Labrador puppies to wipe that right up. The last sheet of white
loveliness as you sit down? No worries! Just take a new roll out of the heap
neatly packed in the rack, or the corner, or wherever your company keeps its
stash.
I have become frugal with 2-ply like
there’s no tomorrow. Just the other day a friend visited and as she excused
herself to go to the loo, I almost followed her into the bathroom to check how
many sheets she would tear from my beloved puppies.
I didn’t, of course, since
she is also a freelancer. But I did hover outside the door, and semi-shouted:
“That’s my last roll for the week, friend”. She wasn’t offended at all, and
even offered to bring me eggs the next time she visited. Bless her soul. (If
only I could turn eggs into loo rolls, right?)
My true desperation was tested when I went
to this fancy schmancy restaurant in Franschhoek on a special occasion (the
name shall not be disclosed for the protection of the vicinity), and spent much
longer than was needed in the bathroom as I sat admiring their 2-almost-3-ply
rolls. Lots of them. Stacked high and beautifully.
I sighed, finished my
business, and left. Back at the table I asked my dinner companion, a very close
friend of mine, if she would think less of me if I had stolen a loo roll from
the restaurant. She laughed and shook her head, but much later, when we had
paid our bill (me swiping the credit card grudgingly), she gave me a sneak peek
into her handbag, and there it was: a majestic 2-almost-3-ply roll of
greatness.
I almost cried from happiness. On her own trip to the bathroom she
had done what I couldn’t, because her handbag was bigger. Now that’s what true
friends do.
Apart from the much-lusted-after Labradors
(which are the most expensive loo rolls on the market, by the way), I’m also a
big fan of Woolies’ 2-play. With pretty little leaves. It reminds me of the
change of seasons. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, the point is:
I have one roll left
for this week, and I plan to make the most of it.
