| Image via weirdlyodd.com |
'Til single-ply do us part They’d stuck with us, and to us, through thick and thin, all the way down to the bare cardboard tube. And despite the cavalier — even abrasive, at times — manner with which we conducted ourselves during our all-too-brief acquaintance, we’d grown attached to every one of those dependable, cylindrical comrades. I pray they navigate their way past the U-bends of River Styx and on to an Angel Soft afterlife. I apologize ... (dabbing eyes) ... where was I? Ah yes, Costco — just three weeks shy of our first anniversary, Lauren and I brought home the very first toilet paper rolls purchased within the bonds of our blissful marriage. How did we do it? “Well, I brought about a dozen rolls into the marriage,” she recalled, as though in reference to silver flatware, or stepchildren. “You had a few at the house already.” But these were mere drops in the bucket (or, mere squares in the commode, to coin a phrase); it was actually the Greatest Wedding Present in the Entire History of Weddings that kept toilet paper out of our shopping cart for 11 months and change. About a year ago today, Christi Conover Babbitt, the editor of the very newspaper you’re holding, and her sister Marcia Conover Harris started hinting that their gift would easily be our favorite wedding present. I knew from our registry (which Lauren dutifully created while I played Mario Galaxy 2) that they had some stiff competition. As we opened up mixing bowl after mixing bowl, we finally got to Marci’s and Christi’s gift, a two-parter: a giant cardboard box with some wrapping paper in the shape of a toilet plunger resting on top. The latter was, in fact, a toilet plunger. The former turned out to be (drumroll) T.P. as far as the eye could see! (Provided your depth of field is about as deep as a big cardboard box.) My first reaction was, “Those stinkers got us good! Favorite gift, indeed!” But then I started thinking about all those trips to Reams to buy toilet paper in packs of four, as I’m stupidly wont to do. Suddenly that fondue pot, with all its flair and fancy packaging, had lost a bit of luster compared to the towers of T.P. we now had at our disposal. A year later, I can say with confidence that we’ve used Marci and Christi’s gift nearly every day of our marriage. Heck, Lauren and I can probably attribute our enduring devotion to one another to our ready toilet paper supply — the absence of which being a common source of marital strife. With that, sisters Conover, I congratulate and thank you for the greatest wedding gift ever given. |
