if you love your pudding, label it

i had this brilliant idea a couple of weeks ago: bring enough food for a whole week to work on Monday. this works incredibly well in my effort to improve my lunchtime habits, because at lunch i always follow the path of least resistance. walking down the hall to the breakroom is much easier than walking to the cafe or to my car. so if i have the food there, i eat it. excellent!

ok, so there’s this sign on the refrigerator door that says it will be cleaned out every Monday. I assume this means at 0’dark-thirty Monday morning, when the housekeeping staff is around, and I pay it little mind, because I clean all my stuff out on Friday, then bring new stuff Monday.

Happily, I brought very little stuff yesterday because I was out of town all weekend and had to do my grocery shopping last night. But I did bring some lasagne (which I ate), some grapes (left over from last week, but still good), and some small tubs of butterscotch pudding. And some DDP.

“Funny,” I thought this morning as I unloaded a week’s worth of sandwich supplies, yougurt, and more DDP into the fridge. “Didn’t I have some food in here last night?”

The grapes I remembered, and didn’t feel too sad about losing them. After a week of grapes, I was a little tired of them.

The DDP is a little baffling. Soda doesn’t _go_ bad, why throw it away?

Then this afternoon I remembered the pudding. Oh, woe. They threw away my pudding! Dammit.

Still, there is no point in being angry at the faceless powers that render the fridge clean each Monday evening. They cannot know that that pudding was perfectly fresh, and _loved_ by somebody. I have learned my lesson.

I will label my pudding.