It's no longer a concern. After I managed to knock down the holder from the wall with my wide-butt several years ago, the roll is kept on the lid of the tank now... :ernae:
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Please see the most recent updates in the "Where did the .com name go?" thread. Posts number 16 and 17.
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It's Official! America is a Roll Over Nation!
- Thread starter n4gix
- Start date
It's no longer a concern. After I managed to knock down the holder from the wall with my wide-butt several years ago, the roll is kept on the lid of the tank now... :ernae:
The "Ode" I posted previously brought back some very interesting recollections from my time in Iran.
<!--StartFragment -->I do have very fond memories of my sojurn in Iran. I only wish that I knew whatever happened to my best childhood friend. Morris Mahlab was the first friend I met after arriving in Tehran and settling into the Point Four transient apartments (where the "Ode" was composed).
One very hot afternoon, I was swimming in the compound's pool, and noticed a young boy looking bleakly through the locked gate. He was so obviously miserable and lonely, that I convinced the gate guard to let him in as my guest. He quickly became my very best friend. As time went on, my family and I came to know Morris and his older sister Vivian, as well as their parents. As it happens, they were Iraqi Jew refugees who'd fled to Iran for sanctuary in the mid-fifties (what a mistake that proved to be).
Morris' father was a carpet dealer in the bazzar, and made a modest living for his family. Before leaving Iran, my folks helped sponsor Vivian so she could attend the University of Austin (Texas). Plans were set in place to sponsor Morris also, after he'd completed his diploma at the Presbeterian School in Tehran...
Unfortunately, things fell apart completely after the Shah fell, and all contact with Morris was lost. To this day I have no idea if Morris survived, or whatever has become of him.
Morris and I were closer than brothers, and it's truly amazing the amount of trouble we managed to get ourselves into! I could write a book on our exploits. After all, it's not every American pre-teen and Iraqi-Jew pre-teen who managed to escape the wrath of the Sazeman-e Ettela'at va Amniyat-e Keshvar! I had absolutely no idea that SAVAK had a branch office directly across the kucheh (alley) from my parent's compound in the western residential area of Tehran then named Bag-e-Sabah.
Morris and I were straddling the compound's wall and yakking back and forth with some toy walkie-talkies when suddenly we were pulled down by our feet and hustled into the SAVAK compound. It took the combined efforts of my father, Ambassodor Holmes and a delegation of US Marines to get us free of their "tender care!" I can laugh about it now, but neither of us knew just how close we were to being forever "lost" to our families. Those folks had *no* sense of humor whatever...
Oh dear, I do apologize for blathering on for so long, but it's been a bit fun remembering my childhood.
<!--StartFragment -->I do have very fond memories of my sojurn in Iran. I only wish that I knew whatever happened to my best childhood friend. Morris Mahlab was the first friend I met after arriving in Tehran and settling into the Point Four transient apartments (where the "Ode" was composed).
One very hot afternoon, I was swimming in the compound's pool, and noticed a young boy looking bleakly through the locked gate. He was so obviously miserable and lonely, that I convinced the gate guard to let him in as my guest. He quickly became my very best friend. As time went on, my family and I came to know Morris and his older sister Vivian, as well as their parents. As it happens, they were Iraqi Jew refugees who'd fled to Iran for sanctuary in the mid-fifties (what a mistake that proved to be).
Morris' father was a carpet dealer in the bazzar, and made a modest living for his family. Before leaving Iran, my folks helped sponsor Vivian so she could attend the University of Austin (Texas). Plans were set in place to sponsor Morris also, after he'd completed his diploma at the Presbeterian School in Tehran...
Unfortunately, things fell apart completely after the Shah fell, and all contact with Morris was lost. To this day I have no idea if Morris survived, or whatever has become of him.
Morris and I were closer than brothers, and it's truly amazing the amount of trouble we managed to get ourselves into! I could write a book on our exploits. After all, it's not every American pre-teen and Iraqi-Jew pre-teen who managed to escape the wrath of the Sazeman-e Ettela'at va Amniyat-e Keshvar! I had absolutely no idea that SAVAK had a branch office directly across the kucheh (alley) from my parent's compound in the western residential area of Tehran then named Bag-e-Sabah.
Morris and I were straddling the compound's wall and yakking back and forth with some toy walkie-talkies when suddenly we were pulled down by our feet and hustled into the SAVAK compound. It took the combined efforts of my father, Ambassodor Holmes and a delegation of US Marines to get us free of their "tender care!" I can laugh about it now, but neither of us knew just how close we were to being forever "lost" to our families. Those folks had *no* sense of humor whatever...
Oh dear, I do apologize for blathering on for so long, but it's been a bit fun remembering my childhood.
In our apartment we have two bathrooms. Now, depending on the space between the toilet and the roll depends on which way it goes. Less space to get your hand/arm to it, the roll goes under. Plenty of room, the roll goes over.
I was always a roll over person. Enough so that I would always change it back if someone put it on the wrong way. But because of logistics, I now understand "under people".
PS: Doesn't matter which way the roll is. If the cats(s) want it to unroll they'll get it.
I was always a roll over person. Enough so that I would always change it back if someone put it on the wrong way. But because of logistics, I now understand "under people".
PS: Doesn't matter which way the roll is. If the cats(s) want it to unroll they'll get it.