As Jessica and my mom routinely discuss, I am not the cleanest of individuals. I shower everday (for the most part), I change my clothes at least once a day and I’ve even been known clean up after myself. My current cleaning battle has to do with the reusable tupperware-ish containers with which I bring my lunch to school. Every day, I have my lunch in the teacher’s lounge, close up my container once I’m done and bring it and my fork back to my classroom. The problem lies in my ability to take the empty container from my desk to back home. Right now, I only have a couple of containers sitting next to my computer, but there have been times when I’ve had to use a small garbage bag to bring home all of my containers.
The sheer number of containers is only the smallest problem, the real crux is the length of time that they sit on my desk turning into little bio-dome’s (not the Pauly Shore movie) and sweat until I finally become grossed out enough to take them home. After that, when I open them up to wash them (because Jess refuses to touch them) the pungent odor gives me a bad case of whip-lash. You would think I would not inhale through my nose but it is one of those situations where you just got to know what it smells like. Just like having someone punch you in the arm as hard as they can, except, these are to the inside of my nose.
At least I pick up my socks at home, I have made progress.
I’m walking, living, breathing faux pas.
Let me set the stage: As with most days, one of the most exciting moments in my day is during lunch. I thoroughly enjoy sitting with my colleauges, swapping stories, making fun of each other, and generally enjoying ourselves for 30 minutes out of the day.
Routinely, people leave extra food, goodies, snacks, left overs from parties, and what not on the table to be consumed by the malnuritied teachers. This time, someone left some pieces of artisan jalepeno-cheddar bread with some artichoke and jalepeno dips. Sitting in the middle of the table, the physics teacher and I decided that it was a ‘freebie’. We both had a small piece of the bread, the dip was fantastic. It was so fantastic I had another piece. It made my single fajita and an orange seem drab.
As lunch went on, I talked and joked with my coworkers, every once in a while I’d glance back at the bread and dip (to moderate my intake, it falls under my “look and don’t touch” rule after having a reasonable amount). I thought it would be selfish to have another piece and only leave one or two pieces remaining for any of the other staff members. I thought I was being courtesy to the point of down-right chivalrous. Little did I know I was wrong. On one my repeat glances at the bread and dip, they had moved. No longer were they in the middle of the table, but in front of the band teacher. In my own horror, I realized that the ‘freebies’ weren’t really in the middle, they were more off to the side of the band teacher’s soup; with even more horror, I realized they weren’t ‘freebies’ at all. They were stolen goods.
I actually sat there and ate someone else’s lunch. I’m an accidental bully.
So much for going past the “overweight person” stereotypes. The only think worse would have been to hold him down or give him a wedgie before I shoved his food into my mouth.
This proves my point, there are always new lows to be found.