Down on the corner, out here in the street

Maybe it’s because my parents were born toward the end of the Great Depression, and they grew up with a scarcity mindset that they passed on to me. Maybe it’s because I was raised in countries with abject poverty, where everything was saved and reused, and the kabaddi wallah would come and collect our glass jars to resell.

You’d hear him come down the street. “Kabaddiiiiiiiiii! Kabaddiiiiiiii!”

I still, to this day, carefully peel tape and open the paper when I unwrap gifts. It drives people crazy. Growing up, we always reused wrapping paper and ribbons—something I also still do.

And it’s hard let go of a good glass jar or sturdy cardboard box.

In any case, I try hard to get the most out of product containers, to reuse when we can, and not waste in general.

So.

We live in a neighborhood with lots of foot traffic. Because so many people pass by daily, if you want to give something away, you just put it out front. Clothing, furniture, kitchenware, whatever.

Over the years, we’ve put out terrific items, and I’ve found terrific items. Recently I brought home a pair of Lululemon leggings for India. Sometimes it’s clear someone has moved out, and there are an apartment’s worth of household goods on the sidewalk.

We had an old neighbor who hated this practice. But I love the give and take.

I got this sundress from a pile of clothing stacked on our very corner. Whenever I wore it, I got compliments, and every time, I said something along the lines of, “Thank you! I found it on the street!”

My tendency, when someone compliments an item of clothing, is to be all, “Ooh, it has pockets!” Or, “I got it with a 40% discount!”

The street corner dress had no pockets, but it was free.

I don’t know why I can never just say thank you. Why do I have to attach a story to everything? Anyway. Pockets and promo codes make it all so much better. And free is amazing!

But not for Nick. He told me to stop telling people about finding it on the corner. The more horrified he was, the sketchier I made it sound in his presence the next time.

I’ve passed along the dress, but for a while, I quite enjoyed it.

The street giveaway is also how I got my favorite cast iron frying pan. If you can clean the item thoroughly, or it’s in sealed packaging, what’s the difference?

Which leads me to the toilet paper.

Last fall, I came across a large unopened pack of toilet paper among a plethora of household items on the corner. I don’t remember the brand, but it was something standard. It was about to rain, so I brought it home.

I figured I was saving it from getting soaked, plus, who doesn’t need toilet paper?

It is terrible toilet paper.

It’s not rough and inflexible, like the toilet paper we got in Peace Corps. But it’s thin and not particularly satisfying.

Americans tend to have cushy toilet paper, and we’re profligate with paper products. You travel in some other countries and the toilet paper is nothing like ours, and you get a flimsy paper napkin that’s been cut in half. Here, restaurants stuff a tree worth of napkins in the bag with your take-out order.

Anyway. Obviously, I had no idea the toilet paper would be so unsatisfactory, or I’d have simply saved it from the rain and put it out for the next person.

But, because we’d opened it, I didn’t feel I could put it back on the street. The rolls were not individually wrapped. I wouldn’t pick up an open bag of toilet paper.

And, because wasting something useful is anathema to me, I’ve been determinedly replacing the rolls of this toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom. I’ve been shocked at how long they’ve lasted.

It’s like when I make a really healthy smoothy that tastes horrendous due to a severe miscalculation in the amount of kale, or the unfortunate addition of pumpkin, or some such. Recently, I lost control of the bag of chia seeds I was adding to the blender. I don’t know if you’ve done this.

I had to use a spoon, and it was mildly unappetizing, but I slogged through my huge mason jar. Because that is what I do. I am not about to waste all the healthy ingredients, no matter how dodgy the final product.

India wouldn’t touch it. Jordan, good man, did his best, though he was like, HOW did you put so many chia seeds in this?

So what I’m saying is, we’re not wasting the toilet paper.

However.

What I didn’t know until recently was that Nick has been referring to it as, “The toilet paper Mama stole from the library.”

My children, who know me, and in whom I’ve tried to instill the importance of honesty and decency, just went ahead and believed him! They didn’t even question it. The terrible toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom is there because Mama stole it from the public library.

Friends, it has been months.

So last weekend one of them said something about the toilet paper I stole from the library, and I was all, excuse me, what?

And they were like, yeah, Dad told us you stole the terrible toilet paper from the public library.

But I was like, “I’m your mother. I wouldn’t steal toilet paper. It didn’t occur to you to ask me?”

Nope. This, they felt, was a totally plausible explanation for the current toilet paper situation in the downstairs bathroom. It turns out they’ve been going upstairs to use the toilet. I now realize why it’s lasting so long.

Last week, India and I were at Costco, and I said we ought to get toilet paper, and headed toward the paper products. India started to laugh and said, loudly, “Good! The Costco toilet paper is so much better than the kind you stole from the library!”

Because now it’s a joke in our family. Except that we were surrounded by shoppers.

So then I had to be all, “HAHAHAHAHA! That was a funny story Daddy made up!”

I don’t want complete and utter strangers to think I steal toilet paper from the underfunded public library.

Even if it were decently funded. I would never!

And it might take the rest of the year, but I tell you, we’re finishing that terrible toilet paper.