I sat on the toilet, and reached for the roll of toilet paper on the roller in front of me. When I pulled on it, only a tiny piece came off in my hand. Puzzled, I pulled on it again.
Another tiny piece.
I took the roll of toilet paper off the roller and inspected it. It was wet. The whole roll.
Annoyed, I washed up and left the bathroom. I ran into my sister-in-law, Kelley, in the hallway.
“The stupid toilet paper roll was all wet,” I grumbled.
Her eyes grew wide with recognition. “Again?!”
“What do you mean, ‘again’?”
“I just changed that roll because the one I tried to use was wet.”
“Huh,” I said. “There must be a leak somewhere.”
Kelley shrugged. “I checked under the sink, but it was dry.”
A family meeting was called. I grabbed a pen and paper, knowing this was gonna be a good one.
Each attendee grabbed his or her beverage of choice from the ice chest by the back door and slid it into a camouflage coozie before gathering on the back porch. Texas country music played on the radio in the background while Leslee, Justin’s step-mom, quickly outlined the problem:
Two different rolls of toilet paper have been discovered soaked through. There was no obvious water leak, and the rolls were dry when they were put on the rollers.
Travis said, “It’s probably condensate from shower.”
“The rug was wet, too,” Leslee, said. She disappeared into the house, emerging a few moments later with wet rugs dripping from her hands. “See? Totally soaked.”
We gathered around. After a proper inspection, we all nodded and agreed that the rugs were, indeed, totally soaked.
“See?” Travis said. “It’s gotta be the shower.”
“But no one’s taken a shower since this morning,” another brother-in-law, Gary, said.
Travis, asked, “Did one of the kids pee on the toilet paper?”
(This might seem like a strange leap in logic to more civilized people. In the Red Dirty Dynasty, this is a completely valid question.)
“That would be a pretty good prank,” another brother-in-law, Bryant laughed. He extracted his empty can from his coozie and tossed it into a nearby garbage can before getting a new one from the ice chest. “Did Triston or Cole do it?”
Triston and Cole have all the social awareness inherit to early teenhood, so a prank like this is not outside the realm of possibility.
Travis went inside to inspect the bathroom sink. (I, of course, followed and took a picture.) Travis came back outside and posed another theory. “The sink is made of cast iron on the bottom. That heater in there could be making the sink sweat then drip onto the TP under the sink.”
“Put a dry one on the roll and put one under the sink and see what happens,” Kelley said.
“You don’t think that heater is making the cast iron sink sweat?”
Leslee disappeared into the house again, came back out a few minutes later. “I put a dry roll on there. We’ll see what it does in the morning.”
The question was tabled for the night. We agreed to reconvene in the morning and review the results of the night’s experiment.
The large group broke up into smaller two and three person satellite conversations. Travis and his dad, Richard, continued debating the merits of the Cast Iron Sink Sweat Theory. The ice in the cooler melted from frequent opening and closing of the lid, and the garbage slowly filled with discarded cans.
Several hours later, Triston walked outside and looked at Kelley, “Mom, I’m gonna take a shower.”
We all looked up in alarm. Kelley summed up all our concerns in one brief statement:
“Don’t get the toilet paper wet!”
The next morning we inspected the toilet paper. Dry as a bone. We left later that day, but I remembered later to text Leslee for a status.
Me: We made it home!
Me: How’s the tp?
Leslee: Still dry!!
To date, the great toilet paper mystery of Thankgiving 2013 remains unsolved. Today we are celebrating Christmas with the Red Dirt Dynasty. Perhaps new evidence will emerge.
To be continued…