Toilet Paper or Corn Cobs?

I was talking with my aunt Audrey about toilet paper. I mentioned the frantic scene this awkward item created and asked, “What in the world did people do before toilet paper was invented?!” With a chuckle, she cleverly responded, “Wait until you Google the Thunder Mug, an item used during the outhouse years.

The entire world is in the throes of creating a new normal. I hear the line every day, “When we return to normal. . .” Never again will we return to normal. For the first time in my near-60 years, everyone on GOD’s green earth is on the same page.

Perhaps, it took me a tad longer to comprehend the magnitude of what’s been happening since the tail end of 2019. I’ve been known to have a Pollyanna attitude while wearing rose-colored glasses. Alfred E. Neuman, the mascot for MAD Magazine, was my childhood mentor and his classic saying rings in my ears to this day, “What, me worry?” I tend to refrain from spinning in circles as if the sky is falling. Could this be a detriment at times? After all, becoming frantic means a plan must now be put in place.

At the beginning of this month, I heard the jungle drums of a toilet paper shortage. The reason? No, it wasn’t the stores’ fault. It was the greedy hoarders who wanted this prized item to themselves. Surely, you jest. I had three rolls of bath tissue sitting quietly in my bathroom and, therefore, figured I was all set for this long winter’s nap.

A thoughtful relative called and said I better get a few canned goods before they, too, were gone. I headed to Raley’s Grocery Store for a couple of cans of soup. As I was walking in with my earthbag tucked securely under an arm, I was face-to-face with a man pushing his shopping cart packed to the rafters with toilet paper. He even managed to shove several packages onto the rack underneath. I was appalled learning the rumor mill was true!

I bit my tongue and refrained from shooting daggers straight into his selfish eyeballs. I attempted reasoning with my Aries fire sign. Perhaps, he bought 100+ rolls to share with his children, grandchildren, friends in his neighborhood, the disabled citizens he knew and with those in needy circumstances. Yes, that’s what he was going to do. I vowed, after this shopping spree, of course, to never darken Raley’s doors again for allowing such gluttony.

I found a few cans of Amy*s soups and then mosied to the paper goods aisle to see whether the ugly rumors were true. As sure as shootin’, the aisle from one end of the large store to the other was empty. Recently, I learned from a single woman she had 36 rolls of bath tissue and heard on the news people were scrambling to buy paper dinner napkins as a back-up so she, too, jumped on this bandwagon. Fortunately, we were on the telephone when she excitedly relayed her news, therefore, she couldn’t see my wide blue eyes roll into the back of my shaking head. However, she was right, there were no paper dinner napkins to be found.

My curiosity had me by the vital jugular vein. I Googled and learned what was used before toilet paper was invented in 1857. To my dismay, I discovered the go-to items for personal hygiene were leaves, grass, ferns, corn cobs, maize, fruit skins, seashells, stone, sand, moss, snow and water. NO, this can’t be true! However, I feared it was. Years ago, I asked a musician friend, who travels the world non-stop, how he feels clean when unable to shower. He responded as if I lived under a rock, “Butt wipes, of course!” With hesitancy, I asked, “Does the label actually say that?!”

My incessant curiosity was further piqued when I remembered the Thunder Mug, my aunt Audrey mentioned with a laugh. I was horrified when I read it was a jug used on cold, icy, or rainy nights for when you didn’t go to the outhouse. You kept it clean and ready under the bed for emergencies, babies and old folks. Talk about T.M.I.

Last week, I went to Walmart for a few essential items such as nondairy creamer, Krazy Glue and mascara. I noticed several people stirring around a corner. I pushed my cart toward them and a pallet of paper goods. I asked a plainclothesman what was happening and he said the items just arrived. I asked whether they were for pre-orders and he said they weren’t. He asked whether I needed anything and I said I could use a couple of rolls of bath tissue at some point. He reached over everyone’s head and grabbed the largest package available and gently set it in my cart. I told him I was so grateful to him and thanked him three times. He smiled graciously. The package he handed me contained 18 rolls of 2-ply Cottonelle. Although I pushed my cart away shaking my head at my good fortune, I wondered whether I was a hypocrite. To relieve the guilt, I messaged my circle to see whether they needed any.

Amidst this new normal in my life, I’m discovering a calm. I’m in close touch with those for whom I care deeply, my home is spotlessly disinfected and the yards are up to snuff. I’m even handwriting letters and sending them via Snail Mail, along with care packages.

Call me a snob, however, if I had my druthers, there’d be a bidet in every bathroom. No one, especially me, would ever worry their pretty little head again about toilet paper or corn cobs.