We've been running low on toilet paper.  We were down to, like, five squares when I left the flat this morning. 

It's one of those things you keep forgetting to pick up.  When I got it last I bought the big economy pack, and it's seen us through nearly three-and-a-half months.  I no longer hold out any hope that Jake will pitch in and pick up household goods we share in common.  He has, in fact, taken to leaving empty boxes of dishwashing detergent on the kitchen counter as a subtle hint to me to get more. 

I have yet to add up the cost and present him with a bill for his half.  It feels too petty.  Wouldn't it be better if he just picked up the slack, kicked in and did what needed doing when he saw we were short?  There are only just the two of us.  It would even out in the end.

But I've noticed that if I ask him to kick in, he apologizes (in a "my bad" kind of way) and says he'll "do better."  And then basically flips me the bird as soon as my back is turned. 

We had this conversation about taking out the trash, which he has never once done, and with not one, but two opportunities a week to do it!  I finally had to say something.  But I didn't even ask him to do it by himself.  I said I was happy to do it, but suggested that when there's more than one trip's-worth of rubbish, he might kick in and take some down himself. 

"OK, dude!  Yeah!  Sure thing!" 

And then: nothing.  Ever.  I even tried leaving it sitting there by the door for a cycle or two as bait.  needless to say: he didn't bite.   

Not to brag, but I'm a pretty quick study.  As the toilet paper supply has dwindled, I have not entertained any delusions that a new economy-pack will appear out of thin air.  But, like I said, you get busy with other things, and you forget. 

But I have to say it surprised — nay, shocked me when walking past Jake's bedroom, annoyed that he had left his window wide open and left for the day, with the crisp air howling down the hall, I saw this:


That, ladies and gentleman, is not just any roll of toilet paper.  It is the last roll of toilet paper from an economy pack that I bought and hauled home myself.  Is it possible, I asked myself as I gaped at it, that, seeing the toilet paper supply dwindling he had swiped the last roll so that he would have it for himself?

Or is he just using it to wipe up after wanking?

This morning when I got to the office I consulted my colleague Stella, who's an Italian-American mother of three boys, and she says he's using the roll as "tissue," by which she led me to understand she meant the second scenario.  She thinks he'd have to be a real "freak" — her word — to take the roll back and forth to the toilet every time he had to drop a deuce.  

But I don't know.  From my experience, there would be discarded tissues all over the floor all around his bed if he was using the roll to wipe up after he's cracked one off.  And everybody knows toilet tissue is no good for mopping up the man jam.  You learn that in Masturbation 101.  You need something way more absorbent.  He's probably got a cherished sock puppet from his childhood he uses for that. 

So he's hoarding.  That's the only logical explanation, as much as it pains me to say it.  Hoarding is such a vile habit. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a sock puppet to abscond with.  Two can play at this game.