Traveling out of state you never know what you’ll run into—alien environment, alien customs. You want to be open-minded but where do you draw the line?

After flying to San Francisco, embracing my dear California sister and catching up on our lives, I get up to use the bathroom. It smells fresh and has a new towel laid out. But when I reach for the toilet paper, it’s facing the wall—backwards!

I’ve known Anne all my life―her opposite political persuasion, her preference for a different kind of church. None of this ever came between us. But the toilet paper shakes me. Where did she learn this? I don’t remember this happening in our childhood home. If she does this to the toilet paper what else is she hiding? Have I missed her darker side? Uncontrolled passive aggression? Anger issues? Never before have I noticed any serious issues. Did she do it on purpose?

I determine to take the high road here. I turn the roll around on the holder, exit the room and greet Anne as if nothing happened. But when I later pop into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I feel slapped in the face―the toilet paper is reversed again! We never exchanged any angry words—she just reversed it without asking me.

I spend a sleepless night, tossing, turning and troubled. I give myself a lecture: You’re not the host; you’re a guest. You must go with the flow and overlook things. Get over it. And yet I can’t. I can eat different foods she prepares, engage in long conversations about topics I’m not interested in, go places I don’t want to go. But the toilet roll—I just can’t let it go.

In the morning neither of us say anything but I can feel the tension rising. I wonder if Anne has talked to her husband but I don’t sense any estrangement when I talk to him about cars, airplanes, softball. Maybe he doesn’t know about it, or worse, doesn’t care. I dread the coming weeks and months with this bone of contention lodged in my throat.

I have forgiven her, really, but I wonder if I shouldn’t talk to her. At breakfast, Rich hasn’t gotten up yet and Anne and I sit savoring the comforting coffee and scrambled eggs cooked with just a hint of tabasco sauce. I take a deep breath and begin: “Anne, I noticed the toilet paper was reversed and when I turned it around you turned it back. I want you to know I’ve forgiven you and will never bring it up again.”

My sister’s eyes widen and her mouth opens but nothing comes out. Finally, “Oh, Jamie; I didn’t know that was such a big deal. I’m sorry.” Not said patronizingly but full of respect and I don’t detect any anger. (I notice that women tend to apologize, even if they don’t think they’ve done anything wrong.) We share small talk for a few awkward minutes. I think this helps; I feel my muscles relax and the tension dissipate. From then on, I turn the roll her way but later I notice she comes in and turns it back my way. I count that as a sign of our mutual respect.

A couple days later I red-eye back to Minnesota and Uber home after midnight. My own kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. My bathroom! I feel relief wash over me as I reach for the toilet paper and find the loose end facing front. It feels so right.

Why make such a big deal of this? Because if you let things like this slide, next it’s slurping, double chip-dipping or maybe even grand larceny. I figure I did her a service by nipping bad behavior in the bud. And anyway; one of my strongest spiritual gifts is judgmentalism.

Since that difficult day I’ve moved on; I’m not holding on to it. Like, every time I call Anne, I assure her that I’ve put the toilet paper conflict behind us and will never bring it up again. And I congratulate myself on achieving reconciliation after such a sharp misunderstanding.

But I sometimes wonder if she’s still doing it wrong.