T-Peed Off

Before I wax on about my topic o' the night, let me just say I'm tickled that my husband has actually been reading my blog.  And, throwing out cleverly inserted, seemingly random references from my entries into our daily conversation.  The moment it hits me, I light up on the inside.  Thanks, Mim!

So, onto a far more serious subject.  Truly, this deserves all the attention I can muster on this keyboard.

Why toilet-papering?  Most of you probably know what I'm talking about here.  Charmin streamers careening through the night air, hitting the highest branches of the best looking tree in the landscape.  Trailing cascades of seemingly endless white squares, draped amongst the leaves and berries and limbs of holly and hackberry, rose and redbud, euonymous and elm.  Discarded paperboard rolls mingling in the lawn, ghosts of their former selves.  All for . . . for . . . for what?!

In the cases I've witnessed, including our own random brush with this juvenile vandalism (which does not mean adults don't partake), the marauders don't return to the scene to witness the clean-up.  What's the point?  Personally, I believe the responsible parties should volunteer to be the clean-up crew.  Whistle while you work.  While you stretch, sweat, swear, and squint your way through the impossible task.  And, once all of the detritus has been collected, they should further be required to utilize the squeezably soft product for its intended purpose until it is gone.  Any clinging thorns, leaves, insect carcasses, or dirt can be considered a badge of, hmmm, what?  Honor?  Hubris?  Humiliation!

During my morning walk today, I speed-strolled through a developing neighborhood not far from my home.  While a large teardrop of a cul-de-sac is partially filled with very large homes at equally grand prices, two others are starkly empty.  Not a house in sight.  Anywhere.  One of of these streets, it doesn't even have it's own street sign at this point, was a handsome oak tree of many years situated quite close to the curb.  While I've admired it's beauty before now, today I was struck by the strings of - yup, you guessed it -- toilet paper dangling from its lower branches.  At its roots was an enormous wadded pile of the stuff, at least two rolls worth, totally emptied in one spot with a few tails wandering into the roadway.

So . . . what?  Now you have to go somewhere isolated and train for the event?  Get a few practice tosses in?  Figure out whether Quilted Northern or Wal-Mart brand has the best trajectory?  Time the unrolling for efficiency's sake?

I'm never going to 'get' it.  I'm a fan of toilet paper.  It sure beats leaves or the left hand.  It's great stuff in moderation and handled in a private sitting.  Can't we just leave it at that?