My husband has a cap filled with dirty tissues sitting on the dining room table; why exactly, I don’t know. What’s he gonna use it for – a centerpiece?

My mother was and still is a woman who always has a tissue. At family dinners if she sneezed she would reach up her long-sleeved blouse and whip out a Kleenex. Now that I think of it, I never saw the woman in short sleeves. How else would she carry her tissues?  One sleeve was her private stash; the other sleeve was extra to give out.

I’d be sitting at the dinner table, next to her and next thing I know she’d place a tissue beside my plate and command me to, “Wipe.” I knew better than to argue and tell her, “I didn’t sneeze,” as it was at the end of a long day and being weary from carrying the weight of a box of tissues in her sleeves, she just wanted to get rid of them. So, we wiped, we all wiped.

Although, she was good to have around when you just opened a box of Kleenex and didn’t want the hassle that comes with pulling the first tissue from the box. Instead of cramming tissues like sardines, why don’t they package them like potato chips, lots of bag and air; lots of extra room at the top. I hate when you reach for a tissue and the whole box comes with you. When you replace them, are you the type to shove them in the box, or do you fold each one individually and then put it back? And have you ever wondered why some tissues are two ply and some three? I hate getting a three ply because I know that there’s a lonely one ply somewhere in the box. A one ply does nothing. It’s worthless. You may as well sneeze on your hand or into your cap. If my husband sneezed into his cap there would be an empty cap on the table, instead of one filled with discarded tissues. My mother would never treat her tissues with such disregard.

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