This week I reached what is probably the pinnacle of laziness* and had toilet paper home delivered.
When we stayed in Perth last Christmas, housesitting for friends, I noticed a box in the laundry that had ‘Who Gives A Crap’ printed on it. I looked it up online and discovered it’s a company that sells only home-delivered bog roll. I like having things home delivered and I love swear words and not running out of toilet paper, so this seemed like a good fit for us.
It only took me eight months to get around to, but last week** I ordered a box of 48 double length rolls for $48. Delivery was not only free, but as an added bonus Who Gives A Crap uses something called Sendle for their shipping. Australia Post thinks we live at Brigadoon and that they can only actually drop packages here once every hundred years, so any shipping company that is not Australia Post gets a big thumbs up from me.
The first excellent thing was the sheer quantity of toilet paper we received and the joy we found in unpacking the box. My kids are pretty deprived. They generally only get new toys three times a year: for Christmas, their birthdays and when they sleep through the night. So they were over the moon to have forty-eight individually wrapped loo rolls to unpack and play with.
Each roll comes wrapped in pretty wrapping paper, which is good because the rolls are still relatively clean even after a good few days of being played with and kicked around and made into towers and forts and weapons. It’s also useful because forty-eight rolls is a shitload of toilet paper and we quickly ran out of concealed spaced to store it, so it’s nice that the paper looks smart and we can just leave them by the TV and on the bedside tables as objets d’art. Or objets f’art, if you will.
Once the kids had exhausted the entertainment possibilities from the toilet rolls themselves, they moved onto the box. Garnet is about half the size of forty-eight rolls of toilet paper, and so of course he hopped into the box. We passed a good hour or so playing Jack-in-the-box, and when it was time to leave for dinner at my parents’ house he insisted on bringing the box along so we could carry him into their kitchen and he could leap out and surprise them. That kid lives for practical jokes.
The next day we painted the box and cut door in the side so it could be used as a car. Almost a week later and they are still playing with it.
The toilet paper is pretty good. I mean, it’s toilet paper — it doesn’t have a lot of Key Performance Indicators in its job description, but it does what is asked of it with no fuss, as a particularly effusive boss of mine once wrote of me in a reference.
And to top it off, the company donates fifty percent of their profits to a charity that builds toilets in the developing world. So I’m doing charity, being nice to my kids and keeping our bums tidy without even leaving the house. What a brave new world we live in.
*Oh no, wait, I’ve topped it by blogging about having toilet paper home delivered.
**I’ve only recently memorised my credit card number. I fear you’re going to see a lot more posts about strange internet purchases like this in the future.