Now I’m gonna get her finger germs on my butt.

In my quest to reduce my consumption of oil-based products, I buy loose rolls of toilet paper for a quarter apiece at a local grocery salvage store rather than buy them shrinkwrapped in plastic in bundles of multiples of four or six at the grocery store.

I just have to be careful not to buy rolls that are half-gone or have water damage.

At least, I HOPE it’s water damage.

Yeah, yeah; I know that at some point in their past they were almost certainly shrinkwrapped just like that. But somewhere along the line, someone decided that rather than throw out the toilet paper just because the package was damaged, they’d make the responsible decision to recover the toilet paper.

And if I DID buy the Toilet Paper Of The Masses, it would be TWO plastic shrinkwraps bought and thrown away (the one thrown away due to damage, plus the one I would be buying) instead of just one.

I tell you all this to set up the following.

So I’m standing in line at the register at Ken’s Salvage Grocery. I’ve filled my cart with ten Cups Of Noodles ($.10 each), ten of those little plastic bottles of Kool(ish)-Aid that kids drink ($.10 each), a package of very slightly out-of-date Cherry Cordial Hershey’s Kisses ($1), a used paperback for my mom ($1), a couple of 16-oz. packages of turkey coldcuts to make sammiches with ($1.99 each), a box of individual packets of True Lemon ($2), a slightly dented tube of Pringles ($.75), and four rolls of the aforementioned toilet paper, which are resting on top.

One of the rolls has a festive, simple little floral design on it.

The woman in line in front of me turns around, focuses on this roll of toilet paper, and . . . get this . . . CARESSES IT WITH HER FINGER!!!

“Oooh, I haven’t seen that kind in a long, long time!” she remarks, “I used to buy it ALL THE TIME, and I really LOVED it!”

Is it too much to ask for a man and his asswipe to remain unmolested in the checkout aisle?

I GET that other people have rubbed their grubby little hands on it while it sat in the bin on the shelf, but there’s something about it being in my cart, being fingered right in front of me, that rubs me the wrong way.

Everyone uses toilet paper; we all know that. But when you see toilet paper in someone’s grocery cart, you’re supposed to pretend like you don’t see it. You’re not supposed to comment on it, and you’re SURE AS HELL not supposed to caress it with your finger!

It’s one of those Unspoken Rules That Holds Society Together, just like not buying your condoms at a store where the people know you, or if you’re a cashier, not broadcasting a request for a price-check on aisle three for the Super-Absorbent Maxipads over the store’s loudspeaker. It just ain’t right.

So if I run into her in the regular grocery store and see that she has some of those Super-Absorbent Maxipads in her cart, I’m gonna make sure everyone in the store knows about it.

“Are those the SUPER ABSORBENT MAXIPADS, ma’am? My washing machine overflowed and flooded the laundry room, and maybe if I got some of the SUPER ABSORBENT MAXIPADS like yours, I could use them to soak up the water!”