Wipe Out

We were in the empty aisle of paper towels and cleaning products at our local grocery store when Holly spotted it. Hidden behind one of the shelf racks near a box was a lone package of toilet paper.

Because of the coronavirus Covid 19, there’s been a massive run on toilet paper. Apparently, everyone was afraid the outbreak would cause a break out of … well… what toilet paper is good for.  Finding a single package of four rolls was like discovering a treasure in a sunken ship, panning pieces of gold in a river, having an administrative leader who actually knew how to handle the pandemic. It was rare. Very rare.

Holly grabbed the package and put it in our shopping cart, hiding it beneath other, less desirable supplies. It was a cheap make of paper, something below the Always Save or Great Value offerings, more akin to the Are You Sure You Want It or the You’ll Be Sorry brands. The paper sheets had the consistency of shattered dreams and broken promises. I could have gotten better results from using leaves or newspapers. But, it was toilet paper, dadgum it. This country was founded on freedom and comfort. Toilet paper was invented only 160 years ago by an inventor who wanted to create a “medical accessory.” In that century and six-tenths we have become quite accustomed to it. According to toiletpaperhistory.net, a website devoted to wiping out misinformation about paper, U.S. residents buy 26 billion rolls a year. About 1.5 billion were purchased last Thursday. Charmin is charming. A coronation for Coronet , and all. What kind of nation would we become if we lost the right to wipe?

We continued down the aisle. I grabbed a toilet plunger and held it firmly, ready to swing at anyone daring to attempt to take the prized paper from our cart.  We pushed through the section that used to contain bleach and spray cleaners but was now empty. Holly has a tad bit of OCD; cleaning is an obsession with her to the point of wiping door knobs and using Lysol on the bottom of our shoes to kill any Covids we may have stepped in. This is a hell for her now. It is a world without wet wipes, soft soap, sanitizer and super cleaning liquids that promise the death of 99.9 percent of germs. It’s pretty much the same world to me as before, but I am somewhat of a slob, I guess.

She picked up some cat food and cat treats in another aisle and we headed toward the checkout. But we had to pass through the food section and therein lay trouble. Hoarders were gathered around the soup can shelf, jostling for position much like Bill Laimbeer of the 1987 Detroit Pistons did for a rebound.

They spotted us and advanced. I swung the toilet plunger at encroachers. I yelled out,” Look, the last can of Campbell’s chicken noodle!”  The diversion saved us. They stumbled toward the shelf like the extras on the early seasons of the zombie show “The Walking Dead” headin’ for brains and we pushed our cart past them.

The checkout line stretched around the self-checker stations and back into the store. People were observing the social distancing rule, maintaining six feet between each other. By then I was sweating from the exertion. I had also suffered from allergies and the budding Bradford pear trees were shedding their pollen, turning the air into a yellow mist of sneeze-inducing atmosphere.  Sneezing and sniffling were my constant companions and they did not abandon me in line. I got some nervous looks of Covid-fearing folks and then realized why there was the run on toilet paper. Whenever anyone sneezed in public, 100 others pooped their pants in fright.

I wanted to say, “Boy, I didn’t know having the coronavirus made me sweat so much” to clear out the line. But, I held back. I may have limited supply of toilet paper and cleaners, but I kept my sense of civility.

We got out of the store, tossed the goods in the back seat of the car and sped off. Our treasure was intact. We were proud. We came and we conquered and we won’t chafe later.

 Editor’s Note: Most of this was written two weeks ago for a more timely fashion, considering news of the day then. However, as this was being composed, a tornado bore down on our town in Arkansas and I, at my weekend job at an assisted living facility, had to scramble to get residents to safety. The twister missed us, but then came near our home, wrecking neighborhoods less than a mile from us. It kind of killed the writing muse what with that and the virus. It’s sunny today and, although more inclement weather is approaching for tonight, at least it was decent enough to finish this.