Toilet paper roll etiquette flushes out tortured souls
It’s the question of our times. It splits the wheat from the chaff; tears families apart. It defines the right from the very, very wrong. We’ve never been more divided — so it’s time we all get on board, on the right track. For the good of the community.
Of course, I’m talking about whether the toilet roll should roll from the top or the bottom. Obviously, it is the top.
I take the view it’s always good to look to the experts on matters of such import, and if one regards how a hotel arranges its toilet rolls, it is always, unerringly, over the top.
You can tell they’re experts because they go the extra mile and fold it into a nice little triangle on the end, presumably not just to ensure great purchase on the first dispensation, but also to reinforce the correct way to the doltish rabble. That is the gold standard of toilet roll arrangement, something we can all aspire to. I call it Kawerau (Mill) Ikebana.
While we’re at it, the correct way is to fold, not to scrunch. Scrunching is terrifyingly chaotic, the sign of a tortured mind.
We can look to experts for other grand questions of our time.
Woe betide any household I enter where I find tomatoes and eggs in the fridge. No faster way to pop the vein curling up on the edge of my forehead than when I stumble across that kind of carnage.
Again — look at the experts: in the
supermarket, are the eggs in the fridge? Are tomatoes in the chiller?
Perhaps I should be, but that’s not the point. I unleash my fury for the benefit of all — putting tomatoes in the fridge makes them taste awful and ruins their texture. Additionally, for those among us with teeth sensitive to cold (you should probably get that checked out by the way — but then again, none of us can afford that), you’re doing yourself a favour keeping your tomatoes in the fruit bowl.
Where, of course, they belong anyway, being fruit and all.
Eggs only belong in the fridge in the US, because over there they wash and sanitise the eggs to such an extent it makes them more prone to bacteria. So chuck that fridge egg tray in the garage and free yourselves, people of New Zealand.
While we’re in the kitchen, I really do think it’s polite to refill a kettle when you’ve emptied it. If not, there’s no better way to say: ‘Yes, thank you, I enjoyed my cup of tea very much. You may not.’
Not related to any of this — for some reason, my mother recently referred to me as a house drill sergeant.
I suppose I can be a little bit confident in my positions. But it is a natural side effect of always being right, so I’m not sure I can be blamed. Unless it’s on my upbringing, of course.
But I suppose it is my prerogative to spend a cumulative month of my precious life flipping toilet rolls over the right way. Clearly, I need a cup of tea and a lie down. And yes — I will refill the kettle.