When you're sitting around with your friends, or your therapist, or whoever, talking about how your mother was some sort of Type-A lunatic who put you in time out for unrolling the toilet paper, I mean hey man it's only toilet paper, please refer to this epistle for the rest of your story.
You did not receive time out for unrolling the toilet paper, per se.
It's not because I especially like toilet paper.
It's not because we can't afford more.
It's not because now I have to go get another roll and put it in the bathroom, another trip up and down the stairs with 20+ pounds of human in tow.
It's not because I don't find it absolutely fucking hilarious finding you sitting on the toilet, surrounded by a mountain of unravelled absorbent paper, while you are fully engrossed in and enjoying the task you've undertaken--because it's a pretty damn funny, and might I add cute, sight to behold.
No, none of these earned you time out, although I don't appreciate wasting things.
It's because when I've already told you 861 times before to NOT unroll the toilet paper, and then you insist on doing it again, I've just about reached my limit.
Mommy/Mom/Crazy Lady Holding the Acre of Unused Toilet Paper