My laziness is an art form

I share a bathroom with one of my three roommates. Last month was our spring break, and afterward she had family matters to attend to, and did not return to school until this past Sunday. About two months ago it was her turn to buy toilet paper. She was displeased with my purchase of the dollar store kind (four for a dollar, son), and decided she wanted to buy the "nice stuff." The nice stuff was the like forty-eight rolls for nineteen dollars. Now, I don't know about everyone else, but I don't have nine-fifty in toilet paper money lying around, so I told her I wasn't going to be able to pay her, and she had said before we went to the store to get it, that that was perfectly fine. She said she understood why I might not be able to afford NINE-FIFTY IN TOILET PAPER! And I was grateful that she understood. Because, as I said, she said she understood. She understood so much that when she left for THREE AND A HALF WEEKS, she locked our toilet paper in her room.
I did not realize right away that I was out of toilet paper. I come spilling into my dorm room, my bag falling to the ground by the door, my ipod hanging from the earbuds in my ear, my books flying onto the couch. I trip over my bag, bang my chest into the counter, fling my ipod onto the couch next to my books and haul some serious ass into the bathroom because I was about to pee my pants. And we were out of toilet paper. I hurried to the other bathroom in the apartment where my other two roommates shared a shower and toilet. And they, too, were out of toilet paper. I finally found a half used roll under the counter and made do.
My solution was short lived, though. Going to Target and buying some toilet paper was probably the easiest option. However, I had front row parking at my dorm. I'll repeat: FRONT. ROW. PARKING. I assumed it was just a myth before that morning. I assumed the people who had front row parking got it moving day and had not moved since. I was unaware you could even park so close to the dorm that I didn't have to pack a lunch to get from my car to the door of my apartment. The hell I was leaving that parking spot for anything besides zombie apocalypse.
So, I searched for a new solution. And what was my new solution? Toilet paper theft. I would go into a bathroom stall at school and roll and roll and roll the toilet paper until there was enough to last me the day, stuff it in my purse and leave. Skeezy and kind of weird, yes, I know, I realize this, but it worked, people. It worked!
Wait, is it actually illegal to steal toilet paper? Well, then, I allegedly stole toilet paper from bathroom stalls. I heard from a friend of a friend that I did, and I can't be sure. I might have. And if I did steal toilet paper, it's probably all gone by now.
Well, this toilet paper incident inspired me to take a good hard look at my surroundings and I realized my apartment was a mess. I began to clean the kitchen. I washed the dishes, wiped down the counters, found out we have a blender, all good things. I was just about done when I found something wedged into the corner behind various appliances. Something blue and crumbly. Something moldy. Something that used to be bread. Yes, a loaf of bread that I found March 20 and that expired August 30, was sitting on my counter. This got me a little concernakiss.
I went through my cabinets to look at all of my other food. All of it was expired. And not just by a few days, but some by months. I started yanking things out of the cabinet in horror. I was actually quite scared, because all of my snacks were beyond expired. I mean, I don't even remember BUYING Wheat Thins, so that must have been a LONG time ago. I threw everything away and now I have no food in the apartment. I'm starving. My stomach is making demands that sound startlingly like, "You fucking bitch, go EAT SOMETHING!"
But still...FRONT. ROW. PARKING.