It’s not uncommon around our house to open a container of juice or milk and find about three tablespoons of liquid left in the carton. Or to grab a bag of pretzels or chips and frustratingly discover just two of them in the bottom of the bag. The pets aren’t responsible — any self respecting dog would blithely have finished not only the remnants but would have eaten the bag as well. I regularly ask my husband to PLEASE deal with those tiny leftover amounts and he promises to work on that. In the meantime, I’ve decided to look at his propensity to do this as amusing. He and I wonder if maybe he was chastised as a kid, for taking the last slice of meat or last piece of cake — yet he has no a recollection of that. Whatever the root cause, I thought his voluntary retraining was going pretty well. Until yesterday when I walked into the bathroom and found exactly three small squares of toilet paper left on the roll.