Kleenex.

Today in my teenage angst, the facial tissue industry is a little bit fascinating. Not because facial tissue is fascinating but because we have come to depend so thoroughly on this umbrella industry we call Kleenex. I, in particular, have been having sinus issues for about three weeks now and Kleenex has been my nearest and dearest friend. Legit. But I digress.

I found this box when I reached into our storehouse of boxes of kleenex, and I laughed. As you can clearly see, this box was meant for a school child. Did you know that a box of kleenex is on most school supply lists today? Maybe this was your late-August-reality, it was mine too. But not until we moved to Canada.

My dad is American - I too, subsequently, am American - and we lived in Portland, OR for the early years of my conscious existence. Kleenex was definitely not on my supply list at Bridger Elementary. I remember thinking, after arriving in Canada as a seven-year-old, how odd it was to have that on my supply list. Why couldn't the school supply us with that item? They supply us with toilet paper. What's the difference?

I learned. The kleenex that the school buys is gross and scratchy and basically out to get you. It must have been an intervention on behalf of the teachers to provide us with a little comfort during cold season. Teachers are the nicest. You could, however, always tell when we got to a box that had been brought by a rich kid. Puffs Plus with Lotion. While we appreciated that extra bit of softness, we cursed them for the automatic tendency to buy the nicest brand.

Isn't this always the way.