Hot-Cold

I changed my profile and about photos last night. Why? Because I felt like being more honest about the About photo. That first one was cute, but it was taken nearly five years ago, now.

Then, I liked the About photo better than the previous profile photo, so I switched that out, too.

I volunteered to clean the fridge this morning. At the time, I had nothing else to do. But then I got busier, so I haven’t started, yet.

When I sign up for fridge duty, I forget how weird I feel, throwing out other peoples’ food. Who am I to judge what other people eat? What if I throw out someone’s lunch accidentally? What happens when nothing is dated and it all looks and or smells okay?

Hmmm. This reads like the stream of consciousness of an overthinking, anxious person, doesn’t it.

Dale actually had me clean out the big fridge in the cafeteria one day, and he said I didn’t throw away anything, which wasn’t entirely true. But it was true I didn’t throw out very much.

He then cleaned it himself, and inadvertently threw out someone’s lunch. He was stuck for at least 30 minutes, arguing with the guy about how there had been a mass email, please bag your items, etc.

So I wasn’t wrong, exactly.

But I had to make a choice today, between keeping the peace in the WH fridge and eliminating the smell. The smell won.

Anyway, there’s a chance I might actually be starting the change. My mom was the exact same age as me when she started, and I’m seeing some possible symptoms.

So I guess I can officially no longer call myself a young woman. Not that I have in years.

At least I still look young, though. There’s that, right? That’s nothing to complain about.

Okay. Definitely have to go. Talk later.

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