Nothing to do with trees and TP, but talking about the little old lady in the crapper when you need to do your thing kinda reminded me of a cold winter evening in Northern Alberta.
I was driving to dinner with a lovely girl I had just started seeing when I began to feel a massive buildup of compression in my lower abdomen. It was building fast and in a small Firebird cockpit with windows up, there would have been no humane way to find relief. Thankfully, I had to stop at a nearby instant teller to get some collateral for the evening and I squirmed, clenched and twisted all the way until I pulled up right in front of the bank.
As I approached the door, I was happy to see the lone occupant, a small older woman on her way out at the same time. I hurried in and let the door close behind me. As I stuffed the card into the slot and punched the quick withdraw buttons, I cut loose with a long staccato blast on full auto that fogged the windows and rattled the glass. Normally, a human being can tolerate the smell of his own emissions, but this one polluted the atmosphere and was damn near unbearable. Just as I exhaled a loud sigh of relief and resolved to hold my breath, I heard a sound like a small squeak and turned around to see the little old lady standing behind me with the most g-dawful expression on her face!! Apparently, she had decided she needed another transaction and had followed me back in the door!
The machine mercifully spat out my card and cash and I hurried out of the booth muttering an apology . Unbelievably, the lady didn't evacuate, but just stood there looking at me with this horrible expression. I hesitated briefly to air out my clothes before getting back in the car. The rest of the evening went well and that girl I was dating is now my lovely wife, but I still bust a gut every time I remember the look on that poor old woman's face.