After returning home from a trip, I thought I should catch up on all of the news I missed, so I turned on my television set, and listened, as a man said, “It’s time to ask, ‘What do you really want from your toilet paper?”’ I don’t think it was Wolf Blitzer, although he is a very thorough interviewer.
I’m not in the habit of conversing with my toilet paper, but I guess I’d ask a roll or two, “Do you really enjoy hanging from trees on Halloween?” Or maybe I’d finally find out their preference for being rolled over or under the toilet paper spindle before being torn to shreds.
In case I run out of things to say to my toilet paper, another voice on my television set urged me to go to a local department store to find out--- “What speaks to you?” I went to the store and quickly discovered that it wasn’t the sales people. I listened for a while and thought perhaps I heard a pair of jeans swearing at me from the dressing room, but it was only a woman whose zipper was stuck. I wondered if it was Diane Sawyer, but decided she wouldn’t urge me to talk to inanimate objects after her experience interviewing an abundance of empty suits.
On my way out of the store, I made the mistake of walking through the Cosmetics Department. Magically, young women in smocks appeared, and not only were they talking but were spritzing me with all kinds of stinky perfumes, and making rude remarks about my face. As I ran the gauntlet, one after another begged to make me over. I said, “I don’t want to be anyone else.” After the third, “I could give you a beautiful makeover,” I finally replied, “I just had one. Can’t you tell?”She sprayed a new fragrance by Calvin Klein into my eyes, and I ended up smelling pretty good but blinded. By now, I just wanted to go home and talk to my toilet paper.
That evening I listened to the sweet beeping of my microwave oven. In four minutes I had a hot meal. It said, “Beep, beep, your dinner is ready.” That speaks to me.
Esther Blumenfeld (My tea kettle is whistling at me. It likes me just the way I am)