Cottonelle

Doesn't everyone have favorite brands? It starts when we're young: the favorite blanket...toy...shirt. As adults we can't wear the same shirt everyday or the other people point and laugh, so we replace the favorite blanket with these socially acceptable favorites.



A favorite peanut butter, mayonaisse (NOT Miracle Whip), and syrup. Toothpaste? Deodorant? No? Alright, how about mascara? I'm almost certain I got one of your favorites in that list. You know it. You tell yourself it's reliable, and when the chips are down, do you really want to waste money on something that might not perform the same as _[insert your fav here]_?

No. I didn't think so.

Hello, I'm Molly, and I have brand favorites. And for these few items there is. no. deviation. Shoppers who can go with whatever is the best price once they've taken advantage of a sale and applied coupons have my everlasting admiration. I cannot do it.

With one of my brand loyalties comes a fear of running low, of looking at the stash and finding only 1 roll. That's right. Toilet paper. Fear and loyalty. There's a pathology for you.

For many years I was a Charmin girl. I eagerly looked forward to Mr. Whipple's new adventures. I, too, squeezed the Charmin. The only question was 6 rolls or 12?

From the time I graduated from college to the time I bought this house - say 20 years - steady, committed Charmin use. Folks, my middle name is commitment. Not really. I'm just making a point.

Then, I closed on my new house, and I discovered a new way. Only I didn't know the name of the new way. The previous owners thoughtfully left behind the partial roll in the bathroom along with the blue planter at the back steps, the easel upstairs and the fabric used for their shower curtain.

When I finished measuring all the windows at the new house, I went to the grocery store, straight to the paper goods aisle. And proceeded to look at every pattern and texture of each brand to try to match it up. I was driven. A woman with a mission, close to hyperventilation. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have taken a square with me. I decided it looked most like Cottonelle, which was lucky [I know, Rob, think artistic license] because it had a puppy on the package. It was a sign. A new bond was forged.

Which brings us to today. There is only 1 roll left in the closet. I am tetering on the brink of disaster. The horrible prospect of running out of toilet paper looms before me. Before switching brands I would have no more gotten below 6 rolls than I would embrace macrame for profit. What if there should be drop-in company with excessive habits? What if a certain family member turned up? Stock always disappears when that person visits, but that's another story.

What if Gus remembers his puppy toilet paper antics? Don't dwell on it. Don't be like me. It's the stuff of nightmares.

Down to 1 roll. I don't recognize myself.