shelf life

i will be the first to admit that you either hate me as a roommate or luv me to death. the reason for this black/white, luv/hate relationship rests solely on the fact that i am anal retentive WEIRD clean girl.

i wouldn't say i'm the ocd "germs! germs! out, out damn spot!" kinda chick. more so, i clean because it's cathartic and it clears my head. this morning i was watching something that had me thinking of clutter and i went on one of my binges. poor roomie of mine, i went into the fridge, not caring what belonged to her or me and just started pitching everything and anything with an expired expiration date. it felt good...real good and as i carried a much-too-heavy garbage bag out i thought about the notion of expiration dates.

there's a reason for attaching expiration dates to things. it's kind of genius actually. i think everything should have a shelf life. while special friendships should pack enough preservatives to keep things good for years and years, i think bad guys should have a shelf life of ditch-after-first-tear-falls.

funky mental funks (after 1 day)
couch potato time (3 hours)
zits the size of pluto (1 day)
my current curly hair do (13 years expired)
brows that need a good wax (you can get away with that for a couple days sisters then i'll chase you with tweezers)
crushes...the yellow soft cardigan i've rocked since my freshmen year of college...i could go on and on.

i'm just saying...i've turned a new leaf all because of a little cleaning project. the next time i'm out and about i'll make sure to take a look at the stressors and good times. set up some expiration dates when necessary and appreciate the good things that really should never end really.

it's the new version of cleaning house and i'm a sucker for it.


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