A rant about wiping my ass

I don't know why this pisses me off as much as it does. If I walk into the bathroom at the office, I don't give a rats ass if the seat is up or down. I honestly don't even mind if a paper towel is on the floor six inches away from the trash bin. Hey, at least you tried.

If I see an empty roll of toilet paper on the wall, and a new roll sitting a foot and a half away from it on the shelf, or the side of the sink, or God forbid sitting on top of the empty roll, I get a little pain in my temple. I think it's a blood vessel exploding in the "patience" part of my brain.

Why is it impossible for every other fucking guy in my office (or the women who hop into the mens' room... that's right Chewbacca, you are guilty as well) to replace the roll? I would attribute it to laziness but let's be honest: Laziness is not washing your hands. Laziness is writing something on the palm of your hand rather than looking for paper. It's leaving your socks on while you swap DNA. This is something far more complex than laziness.

I can not think of any crucially important activity that must take place with your hands, between dropping your pants and actually using the toilet paper. This is a men's bathroom, so if you're using the toilet paper, you're committing yourself to at least 3-5 minutes of fertilizer manufacturing. Let's not bullshit ourselves either, 3-5 minutes is a pretty conservative figure. Regardless, take a moment from playing solitaire on your Blackberry or reading the New Hampshire labor and wage laws worksheet for the five-thousandth time to exercise your hand muscles whilst exercising your bowels.

I can deal with an infant screaming for 30 minutes straight, and if somebody cuts me off in traffic I'll drop the c-bomb and move on, unaffected. But for some reason this toilet paper thing pains me.

If I'm not the only one, or if you have some other wierd annoyance that makes you want to punch an old lady, please speak up. So I know I'm not crazy.