My Father and I, years and years ago, got into a discussion...no...a disagreement. It's something we certainly do not do often - very rarely even. I remember it clearly. Oprah started it. She was on TV discussing preferences (I'm sure this was way before her topical brilliance of political matters and star studded influences. In fact, I can't even imagine why in the world she would have been discussing such a thing...).
Coke or Pepsi, chocolate or white cake, toilet paper over or under. This was easy-peasy.
Dad: Pepsi. Me: Pepsi. Dad: chocolate cake. Me: chocolate cake. Dad: toilet paper under. Me: toilet paper over. Wait, what? "Under?!" I protested. "What is wrong with you, I feel like I don't even know you" I laughed out.
From that day on, I go to his house, and turn the toilet paper over. He comes to my house and turns the toilet paper under. It's a war of miniscule proportions, and one that makes me laugh with a love so deep for my father, I think sometimes that I drown in it. Many men, come and gone in my life, have agreed - and as I said, they are gone. One man once said to me, after witnessing a conversation between my dad and myself, "You know, no one is ever going to measure up to your father. Your standards are unmatched." Not an entirely untrue statement. However, there still stands - toilet paper over. My husband agrees.
And so tonight, I flipped my father's toilet paper from under to over, and I will expect the same from him when he is here for dinner tomorrow. I am grateful for visits here and there, and toilet paper wars.
A friend told me that only in households with small children does the paper go under, I agree.
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