“How many times do I have to tell her…”

Whenever my sister visits, I end up muttering to myself exasperated. The tiniest room in the house is the largest battleground. I don’t know why she insists on her antics but visiting the bathroom shouldn’t be as frustrating as she makes it.

The room is small. While sitting on the toilet, a person can reach across the room in any direction and press the palm of his hand flat against the wall.

Since there isn’t enough floorspace for a magazine rack, one used to be mounted to the wall. I kept bumping into it. Whenever publications were jostled, either they, or the subscription postcards contained within, fell into the toilet. It wouldn’t have been bad if it happened before I started using the facilities but that wasn’t the case; always right before I flushed.

The chore of retrieving poop stained magazines grew old fast. I decided it was better to be illiterate than continue as a magazine fisherman so the rack was removed.

These days, there isn’t much to do in the bathroom except use it for its intended purpose and stare at the wall. To give the room a fresh feel, I often replace the toilet paper dispenser. Currently, the roll is covered by a tall, rectangular building meant to represent an outhouse. It reminds me of the one I had to use while working at a local farm market. Since there wasn’t plumbing at the roadside stand, I hope the customers washed off the produce when they returned home.

My sister often reminds me that I’m fastidious. I like things a certain way without deviation. The word she uses is “anal” which doesn’t sound as complimentary. It’s like when she calls me a lovable dork. It feels like a hug wrapped in a slap.

When it comes to hanging the roll of toilet paper, things are no different. The end of the roll must be placed in the “over” position so it hangs off the exterior. My sister has argued that facing the flap towards the makes it more difficult for cats and children to unravel but I’m neither. Besides, if a visiting child isn’t smart enough to use a toilet paper dispenser the right way then maybe he should wear diapers.

Whenever my sister visits, she reverses the rolls of toilet paper at my house. I don’t know if she does it to see if I’ll notice or to drive me crazy. I do and it does.

At one point, I reminded her that the original patent for a roll of toilet paper specified the proper way for hanging it. She called me a dork for knowing that tidbit and ignored my protests. She’s continued to reverse the toilet paper.

Emerging from the bathroom, I yelled, “How many times do I have to ask you not to reverse the toilet paper roll? It bugs the crap outta me.”

“Literally?” she replied with a smile.

After taking a few steps, I realized there was something different about the room. It felt off. I looked around but couldn’t figure it out.

“What did you do?” I asked. “Something is wrong with this room.”

My sister said nothing as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. It took me an hour before I realized what was amiss. The television remote control had been moved from the coffee table to the arm of the couch. At least it was facing the proper direction.