Feeling the Recession

I’m starting to feel the recession. No, really I am. It has always been a puzzling expression to me – to feel a recession. But a recent outing to my outhouse which is in fact in house revealed all.

Being away from home for the last couple of weeks hampered my usual 24th of the month shopping for bathroom essentials. Yes, I am anal retentive (appropriate description given later ramblings) and go before payday and buy it on credit. God forbid you go on the 25th or the subsequent few days. The last time that happened, there was a much undignified moment fighting over the last of a limited range of feminine hygiene products. Just the mere thought of it makes my blood boil. You never see men fighting over the last bottle of shaving cream, there’s always more than enough stock. What’s the worst that will happen if they don’t shave for a couple of days? The streets of SA may very well be filled with what may be mistaken for a Wham Reunion. That to me is still tolerable. But consider this – from the age of around 12, girls and women need these products. We certainly don’t buy it as a luxury item. So if there is not enough to go around, it’s a serious problem. I’ll spare you the visual of what a world without FHP may be.

Back to the start and feeling the recession. I found myself without any toilet paper one evening and dashed out to go and buy some at a shop associated with this sort of product. Only to realize when I get there that I don’t have any of my flexible friends with me and will have to use cash. Shit. Enough to buy a few loose rolls of single ply paper. The kind that is so unforgiving on the tenderest parts of your anatomy, I would personally rather face licking the armpit of a hard working 2010 construction worker. If only I could find one. What to do? I bought said product, charged back home and considered drip drying for a while before I could bring myself to make use of the paper. At that point, I felt the recession.

This may have been the end of it. Not the case. I went back the next day and acquired my favourite double ply brand. Or intended to until I saw the price. And then just about needed the paper right there and then. With a lump in my throat, I paid it, consoling myself that it was worth looking after my tenderness. It meant however not being able to splurge on the bathroom freshener I normally acquire. The budget options left me nauseous. There were the options of Strawberries and Cream or Falling in Love. I couldn’t bring myself purchasing either. Who on earth develops these aroma’s and market it as such? Am I correct to assume that only the most ardent Wimbledon fan will be buying Strawberries and Cream? And surely the only consumers buying Falling in Love are those who have never experienced it in the first place. It’s not a subject I’m terribly experienced in but the vague memory I have certainly did not go hand in hand with the aroma of a recently relieved bowel combined with some sort of air freshener. Needless to say, I left without the room freshener. And now resort to lighting a match when necessary. Which have led to the odd scorched fingertip.

I’m really feeling the recession.