Originally published by the Clifton Courier, September 25, 2019

Every day we’re faced with decisions.

Quandaries that require us to stop and think about the person we want to be and the world we want to live in. Predicaments. Challenges. Tests.

Depending on how you look at the world it’s an opportunity for things to break you, or to shape you.

They come out of nowhere when you least expect it.

Here’s an example. You’re… using the facilities and everything is going according to plan. The toilet paper roll was nearly at the end when you walked in, but there was an ample supply for your specific needs. But upon taking off exactly how much you required for that particular visit, you’ve only left two-to-three squares of toilet paper.

You stare down at them, precariously clinging to the cardboard tube. You know you don’t need to use any more paper.

If it were only one piece, you’d have grabbed it with the rest of your handful of loo paper. But two-to-three squares? That’s a little bit too many to use just for the heck of it.

Using more would be extravagant. Gluttonous. Diva-like. But you catch yourself considering going for an unnecessary wipe like you’ve got toilet paper to burn. Who do you think you are? Mariah Carey?!

It’s only a few squares, you tell yourself in a bid to make yourself sound like less of a lavish human being. Surely it’s not that big of a deal.

But then remember that wet blanket of a saying that stops you from acting like the selfish clown you know you are deep inside. The saying that rings through your head each time you step over a plastic bag in the street or needlessly extending your shower by 10 minutes (whether or not you’re playing Hillary Duff’s Coming Clean is beyond the point). It’s saying that haunts you into complying with your unreasonable standards. “What if everyone in the world did what you did?” a deep, authoritative voice in your head says coolly, with just enough seriousness to know you’re being judged (by yourself, mind you).

And then you consider the resources that went into creating that thin, tissuey paper you cleanse yourself with. All the trees. The water. The hours of marketing meetings spent debating the colour of the packaging.

A lot of went into producing the stuff that keeps your bottom clean and you’re going to waste it?!

Then you start doing the maths. If everyone in the world went around using an extra two-to-three squares of toilet paper, the consumption of that resource would go up by a metric s—load. You picture trees being cut down and dams drying up and an elderly Blinky Bill being told to move his family into a block of flats in the inner city.

It’s all a bit overwhelming.

So you decide the best way to approach the crisis is to do nothing, to leave the toilet paper as it is.

But then you remember that leaving it as it is means leaving that tiny amount of toilet paper for the next person to use the facilities.

And, look, whether you’re a scruncher or a folder, the dregs of a toilet roll isn’t going to be enough for wiping away the concentrated sin purged from human bodies.

If you were to leave the roll as is, you’d set up the next person for disaster. We’ve all found ourselves in a similar situation and it’s fair to say that it’s not pretty.

So you try to pick between sentencing the next loo user to an unhappy experience or singlehandedly destroying the planet and subjecting Blinky’s family more trauma.

Things get dark and dizzying and you’re suddenly very glad you’re sitting down.

Is this a question of sacrificing the happiness of your loved ones for the greater good? Or, in a world of changing climates and inevitable doom, should you put your family first? Will you be able to live with your decisions?

Then you realise there’s a simple compromise.

You flush, leave the toilet paper where it is and place a replacement roll within arm’s reach of its nearly-expired predecessor and carry on with your day like a normal person.

Good on you.