Someone needs to be in charge of restocking paper products in your house. In our family, it's me.

Every house has a variety of jobs, big and small, that over time fall on the shoulders of one occupant or another. As comedian Paul Reiser once observed, these are often jobs that nobody especially likes, but one of you happens to hate it a little less than the other, so the job goes to that person.

Among my many assigned duties at 30025 Miller Avenue are two tasks I take seriously. They are in no way onerous, and I actually enjoy them both.

One is changing the clocks twice a year whenever Daylight Savings Time begins or ends. With so many of our time-keeping devices now fully digital, this isn't nearly the job it used to be, but there are still clocks that need to be manually adjusted (the stove, the microwave, the coffeemaker, Terry and Jack's cars, etc.)

The other is making sure we have paper towels in the kitchen and plenty of toilet paper in each of our bathrooms.

Ideally, you should never get to the empty cardboard tube inside the paper towels or a roll of toilet paper without a replacement readily at hand.

Thus, I'm always glancing into the kitchen and various bathrooms to gauge current supply levels and the precise moment when I will need to go to our basement storage room to procure fresh stocks.

Running out of paper towels isn't a national emergency or anything, just inconvenient.

But running out of toilet paper when it's urgently needed? That simply cannot happen.

And it rarely does, though I will admit there have been times when I haven't been quick enough with reinforcements and someone will yell for help from the bathroom.

I would submit that, if you're planning to do something in the bathroom that will require toilet paper, you should first determine if there is sufficient paper on hand before you begin. But I know that sometimes you're simply in a hurry.

Overall, though, I am probably the best choice in our family for this job, as I am detail-oriented and generally very conscientious, even when it comes to things about which you probably don't need to be especially conscientious.

No one appreciates the toilet paper guy until they're in desperate need. Then, and only then, he becomes the most important person in the house.

I only want one thing from 2025

I used to come into every new year with a list of things I wanted to accomplish and/or have happen in my life.

Some were achievable, others were probably unrealistic.

Never did I manage to check every one off the list. Not once.

So now I'm paring down my list of demands, mostly because I am in no position to demand anything. It's more of a plea, I guess.

All I want this year is for everyone I love who is alive and well on January 1st to still be alive and well on December 31st.

This is a lot to ask, I know. It's unfair to ask God that I experience no pain or suffering when you consider the amount of pain and suffering experienced every day by most of the 8 billion other people in the world.

But I'm asking anyway. While I haven't lost an inordinate number of family and friends to this point in my life, I've lost enough that I would like to keep the ones I still have as long as I can.

So, if it's all the same to 2025, I would appreciate it if the people in my life can just get through the next 365 days healthy and happy. Or at least vertical and breathing.

Really, it doesn't feel like that much to ask.