When I was a little girl, I never questioned why there was always more toilet paper stacked up than could conceivably be used in half a year, bags of rice in the spare room, boxes upon tidily packed boxes of those tissues you get handed to you in Japanese subway stations and even the rinds of watermelon were pickled so as not to waste them. Plastic bags were carefully smoothed, folded and put away, holes in towels and socks were mended, the backs and margins of supermarket flyers were kept to scribble on and the china cabinet was always filled with extra packets of tea.
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