This dude… I swear. Looking down at the bare cardboard tissue roll, I sigh silently with an eye roll towards the bedroom. Does he think no one else will need toilet paper after he’s completely emptied the roll? Is it so hard to just bring more tissue up to the restroom? Or is going all the way downstairs to use the fully stocked restroom counted as exercise? In a zombielike state – it’s 6 o’clock in the morning, mind you – I travel down the chilly, air conditioned stairway and fetch a fresh roll of Charmin. The next time he does this, I’m NOT replacing the roll. I will stay strong and see if he puts the fresh roll of tissue paper in it’s proper place. I’ve thought this to myself countless times since we’ve lived together, and the joke’s still on me. The closest he gets to refilling the tissue is sitting the new roll on the counter; leaving the emptied roll on the holder. Wowzers. All I can do is laugh, as I’m positive I have a number of at-home-habits that drive him insane.