The unexpected Zen-ness of a Toilet Paper shortage

hey neighbor, can u spare a square?

A crisis can be a catapult that can launch us into a place of total inner peace, like, Bob-Ross-level peace. In every crisis, there eventually comes a time where the total deafening consumption of our mind slowly starts to recede. We notice, just for a little teeny baby nanosecond, that our mind is quiet and we aren’t viewing the world through the lens of despair.

Each fleeting golden moment of “boringness” we notice, acts as a little peaceful ninja, — slowly obliterating the dark lens of our minds and changing our perspective to one of gratitude. Until one day we can only see the peace and beauty in all of the mundane things we once took for granted.

After a crisis, we recognize the value in the things we didn’t have at one point whether it’s a clear mind or, I don’t know, toilet paper. We feel thankful for simple things, like toilet paper, because at some point in our lives we may not have toilet paper — hypothetically.

We may even be running low enough on TP, that we’ll write our perspective on a crisis solely with the motive to solicit whether anyone reading it might be willing to share information on where the fuck “we” can find TP in Brooklyn — We might be running that low on toilet paper — approximately.

A crisis is a flashlight. It shows us the peace that can be found in watching Netflix instead of being in the ICU, or connecting with a friend instead of an electric flamingo in our living room (shout out to FlaminGreg). And when it all passes, we’ll eventually appreciate the crisis because it made us appreciate all of the things we’ve never been able to see before — the things we’ve had all along — the 2nd ply.