My man experienced an emotional crisis the other day when he discovered he had gotten the wrong paper towels. They were Bounty and white. No icky floral designs. But they were NOT Select-A-Size.

Worse, he didn’t purchase just one. He got a twelve-pack. It was a disaster of epic proportions.

He even confessed his sin to me. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was okay with me because I always use two Select-A-Size sheets anyway. Now I only had to use one of the regular Bounty, so I was happy as a clam.

I’m not sure when his obsession with paper products began. I think it was around the time of Covid when toilet paper was scarce as hen’s teeth and paper towels weren’t far behind.

I should have realized that tendency to save early on in our relationship when I noticed that the Post-it note with “TRASH” written on it–tucked in the kitchen drawer and pulled out every Monday evening–was at least four years old. Based on its appearance, it could probably go on for another decade.

But let’s go back to the paper towels. It wasn’t long after the incorrect purchase that I saw he had taken to cutting the larger paper towels in half and balancing one-half on top of the roll. I discovered this after washing my hands one day. I moved the half sheet aside, tore off a full towel, then carefully put the half sheet back. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to skimp when it comes to drying my hands.

The next thing I observed was the trays we sometimes use when we are eating while watching TV. Please don’t judge. We aren’t the only ones who do that.

We have these old metal ones that I cover with two regular Bounty sheets or three Select-A-Size. The paper towels can last for days if we don’t spill. But the other day when I was pulling them out for dinner I noticed that one had a divot in it.

“What’s this?” I inquired.

My man pursed his lips as if thinking how to answer. “I spilled some soup on it and cut that spot out so it can still be used.”

“You could have gotten a clean paper towel.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it now,” he said, giving me his best silly girl look.

Now that I had fixated on the paper towel situation, I began wondering what other similar obsession lurked nearby. It was then I discovered the pencil with an eraser. Not just any pencil, but a metal one with a half-inch rubber attachment that does a great job of eradicating things that someone has written. Once cleared of notes, the piece of paper can be used again and again and again.

I’m wondering if some of those slips of paper in his desk have been hanging around since the 1980s. They look a bit yellowed.

I’m all for recycling and using resources carefully. But I draw the line at cutting soup stains out of a paper towel placemat.

I guess I should thank my lucky stars he hasn’t taken to cutting the toilet paper in half–and that despite his idiosyncrasies, he’s one terrific guy.