On Napkins

It’s my grandmother’s fault.Back in the day, we would go to Wendy’s and she would say: “go get us some napkins.” I would come back with two or three and she’d say: “No, no, no! Here, let me show you.” She’d hold my hand and lead me over to the napkin dispenser. “Like this,” she’d say, sticking her fingers deep inside and yanking out 40 or 50 napkins. “That’s how we do it.””But grandma, we don’t need all those napkins,” I’d say.”We need ’em, don’t worry about it,” she’d reply.And so, when some environmental committee comes beating down my door for reckless napkin consumption I will point the finger at my grandmother, floating on her sea of napkins in Delray Beach, Florida. For to this day, I still yank a handful of napkins out each time I get napkins from a napkin dispenser. I’m a creature of habit, and this is one of my worst.I try to relegate my need to yank out large quantities of napkins by yanking them out, leaving the pile on top of the dispenser, and only taking a few. But this is still morally questionable since most likely the next napkin user will not collect napkins that have been previously yanked, but will, indeed yank their own.Oh, grandma, what have you done to me? I’ll never know the joys of a single napkin yank. I’ll never eat a guiltless meal, staring at the stack of napkins I have exposed, unused, to the world. How cursed is my fate.