Toilet paper math

There a mistake in my post, “Power of the pillow.” I wrote that my great-niece and great-nephew had a Mickey and Minnie Mouse comfort pillow. It’s actually a Peppa Pig pillow. I regret this error and apologize to Mickey, Minnie, Peppa, and anyone else inconvenienced and/or offended by the mistake.

In other news, I bought a four-roll pack of toilet paper for 75 cents.

Believe it or not, my purchase had little to do with my well-documented cheapness. This saga actually began in September when I left my shopping list at home and had to rely on my memory during my monthly trip to the Supercenter.

Toilet paper was among the items I forgot to buy. When I eventually ran out, I borrowed a roll, thinking it would do until my October trip to the Supercenter. I dern-near made it. Unfortunately, I used my last sheet early last week, four days before my planned shopping spree.

I guess I could have borrowed another roll. But it’s been my experience that if you borrow more than one roll, your lender expects repayment.

That’s how I ended up in the Super Dollar’s TP aisle.

My inability to do toilet paper math is almost as well documented as my thriftiness. I don’t understand how 12 equals 24 in the TP world or if six rolls of ultra strong is a better deal than eight rolls of strong. At my advanced age, I’ll probably never figure it out.

What’s more, I was carrying only a few dollars, and I needed milk and wanted strawberries. I can do regular math, so I knew that if I bought my regular brand of TP, I wouldn’t have enough money for milk and strawberries.

Luckily, my eyes settled on the aforementioned 75 cent pack of toilet paper. Although I pride myself on my relationship with generic brands, I wasn’t familiar with this TP. But I really wanted the strawberries, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

A 75 cent pack of toilet paper is pretty much what you would expect it to be. It’s so thin that, if I so desired, I could read through it, so I have to use more than usual. It’s soft, though, so there’s that.

In fact, my biggest complaint is that, in spite of the thinness, I need a chainsaw to tear off the sheets. You know what’s so strange about that? The TP features perforations. If the perforations aren’t going to aid in the tearing of sheets, they should get rid of them. If they did so, they could pass along the savings to their customers by charging less than 70 cents for the TP. Even I can do that toilet paper math.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

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