*HORK*

Somewhere in the refrigerator in the lunchroom at work, there are no doubt purple carrots.

And I am the culprit.

I have a short attention-span when it comes to food. I am also lazy. So some days I pack a lunch thinking, "MMMM hummus sounds SO fricking good I can barely contain myself" but by lunchtime, hummus sounds about as appetizing as licking birdshit off of someone's rusted out Buick. Other days, the thought of even having to CHEW seems to require way to much agonizing concentration and energy (teeth move up, teeth move down, move tongue out of the way, teeth move up, teeth move down, move tongue out of the way) that I can't bear to put myself through the torture of consuming my pre-packed lunch. This is the ultimate in laziness.

The problem is, I typically forget that I never ate my lunch on one of these days where I buy something at the cafeteria or just sit at my desk and stare. And I typically don't remember it until a few days/weeks later. By then, my bag is one of 50 or so others, indistinguishable and wedged into the wet corners of the refrigerator. Were I a decent person, I would remember to remove my lunch from the fridge promptly the day I chose not to consume it and take it home with me. Or if I were a decent person, I would go back and search for it when I DO remember, weeks later.

But to do the latter would entail scrambling and scrounging through all the OTHER bags in there which has the possibility of resulting in several unpleasant outcomes: 1) Some big-bosomed office-woman with a large beehive beats the crap outta me while suffocating me between her large bosoms when she just happens to come retrieve her lunch as I'm digging through her specific bag to see if it is, in fact, my lunch that I'd left in there a week ago; *OR* 2) I run across some other horrible and unmentionable food mutation which someone ELSE had forgotten about and left in the refrigerator to rot and which has grown some sorta eye that actually has blinking functions and seems to be weirdly autonomous and i am scarred for life because of it, weeping and shaking every time I come within a 50 foot radius of anything resembling a refrigerator.

Neither is an appealing outcome.

So instead, several of my molding filthy rejected lunches are loitering in the refrigerator down there, turning all sorta of different colors, growing fuzzy and furry and black, making people's nostrils curl up like the toes of the Wicked Witch of the West when she gets smashed by Dorothy's house.

I am certain that there is one bag of baby carrots, one bottle of salad dressing, and several other unmentionables down there, plotting my death as we speak.

But today I leave for vacation. =)

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