



Did you know Pennsylvania is the second largest gambling center in the United States? Nevada by far brings in the most revenue garnering a little over 25% of the American dollars legally wagered, but Pennsylvania casinos saw over 3.25 billion dollars (Billion with a B) cross the felts or fed into machines. With the state’s casinos on lockdown card players and slots junkies can scratch their itches easily enough with online betting and in severe moments of needed relief, calling the family around the dining room table and issuing Monopoly Money for impromptu quality time AKA blackjack. But what is the sports betting public to do. The online casino sites include sports betting but there are no sports to bet on. Or are there? Enter Russian table tennis. The mobile sports app associated with one of the area casino’s sports book operation reported 56% of last weekend’s bets were on the Table Tennis Cup matches in Moscow. On the other side of the state the same app operating for another casino saw 79% of the wagers on the cup matches. I couldn’t find a total dollar amount bet on table tennis but an internet search returned multiple pages of strategies and handicapping for betting on this week’s games. And you thought it was something played in garages by teenagers who couldn’t get dates to the prom. (Why yes, that is where and when I learned the game. And your point is?) And life becomes normal, sort of, for the sports junkie gambler.
I was at the grocery store yesterday. That’s one of the places we are allowed to go. Grocery store, pharmacy, medical appointments, and out for walks or exercise as long as we maintain the now normal social distance. That is unless you are an essential employee at an essential business in which case you can go out to get to and from there. Low and behold, there was toilet paper! Enough options that toilet paper math wasn’t out of the question. As I sauntered through the store with my freshly wiped down cart I noticed all the shelves had something on them. Well, almost all. There was milk, bread, eggs, fresh and canned meats and fish, fresh produce, frozen foods, beans, flour and other baking needs and soap, alcohol, and other cleaning products. Everything except the always unavailable hand sanitizer. And rice. Of all the different types of rice in all the different types of packages there were none to be found. All I could think was that some family is going to be awfully tired of stir fries by September. And just like that, even as the supply of toilet paper seems to be normalizing, hoarding has gotten it’s new normal.
Yinzer hoarding is so ingrained it’s even included in winter weather forecasts. (CBS Pittsburgh)
So now that the news is reporting on hoarding activities outside of Western Pennsylvania we have to up our shelf-clearing game. Here then are my personal observations.
It was the approaching the mid 1960s and I was nearing third grade in elementary school. Rumors began circulating around town that the school would be moving to “New Math.” We who would be the beneficiaries of such a momentous shift saw it as a bright star in the heavens of learning. Particularly those of us with older siblings who would gleefully taunt us with “wait till you have to learn long division!” Ha! We showed them. Arithmetic is dead. Long live new math!
Yeah, well, that’s why I spent 25 minutes in the toilet paper aisle Sunday afternoon trying to decipher Ultra Strong Mega Rolls and come up with the best buy for my cash challenged paper products budget. I might have once aced the exam on the difference between a number and a numeral but that didn’t help while I was trying to mentally multiply 348 sheets times 9 rolls divided by $9.45 all the while having visions of bears singing about how wonderfully clean their charming toilet tissue makes them feel.
It doesn’t help that there are no federal guidelines for bathroom tissue roll sizes. Double, triple, giant, mega, mega plus, and super were the adjectives in use in that aisle but even when used by the same brands, the same moniker did not represent the same number (numeral?) of sheets per roll. One package of Mega Rolls boasted 308 sheets per roll while another claimed 348 sheets per roll. Double Rolls had either 148 sheets or 167 sheets. None of that made it easier to figure out if 9 rolls for $9.45 was a better value than 12 rolls for $11.45. New math said “x is greater than y when the intersecting sets represent the lesser value of the total compared to the greater value of the sum of the variable(s) represented by the equation,” but old arithmetic said “Hold on there, Baby Bear. That’s not just right.” (If you are trying to follow along without a program, although everybody used it as a basis for comparison, I never found a roll claiming to be “Regular.” Not a good thing not to be amidst all that toilet paper.)
By the time my daughter entered third grade I was happy to see basic arithmetic had returned to the school curriculum and I could look forward to having help balancing my checkbook. Unfortunately even old math was not her passion and anything other than straight addition, subtraction, or division by ten was, though not a challenge, not actively pursued as a Sunday afternoon diversion. And so, now these many years later, I was left standing in the toilet paper aisle pondering if I would rather have “ultra soft” or “ultra strong,” whether the shape of the package would fit in my closet, and finally just going for the greatest number of sheets per roll figuring that equals the fewest number of times I’ll have to change the roll on the holder.
Satisfied I made the most logical if not the most economical choice, I checked my shopping list for the next item up. Hmm. Paper towels. I have to start shopping with a calculator.
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Memo to self: Rerun this if stuck for a post on August 26, National Toilet Paper Day. Really, August 26, not the first Tuesday following the first Monday in November. Who knew?