TOILET PAPER BITCH

After 17 years of marriage, you'd think he'd know by now that I'm not his toilet paper bitch. It's like every time I go to the bathroom, I'm playing a real-life game of Russian roulette with my dignity. Do I reach for the roll and discover it's empty, or do I risk a full-on Houdini escape act to avoid the inevitable? It makes me wonder if he's doing this on purpose, like some kind of twisted game or revenge for making him keep the toilet seat down. Or maybe he just really enjoys the thrill of the chase when it comes to finding fresh TP. It drives me nuts. But it’s the little things that keep a marriage exciting, I guess. Gotta keep the spark alive, one roll at a time.