Crushing Krisis

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752846

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I have a lot of condoms. I couldn’t explain the how and why of it really, but i do. I never buy them or go out deliberately hunting for them, but i’ve got nearly a dozen of them in my room anyhow. It’s actually sortof like a mutant power. You know, healing factor, weather control, and the all important latex magnetism.

I don’t collect them in an sort of deliberate way, and even once i have them they are basically just strewn randomly around my room. It’s not as though i’m seeing a lot of traffic through there, if you know what i mean.

Well, this “strewning,” if you will, turns out to be the most disadvantageous way to store the things. Especially when you’re trying to find them all and put them in the bottom of an innocent box full of tylenol and allergy medication. Especially when your delerious mother is coming to help you move, and she picks up things first and asks questions later (read that as: “No, mom… don’t pick up the monitor” “Shut up, we have to finish so i can go down the shore”).

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  1. […] I was idly cleaning my room this morning in what was a vain attempt to finally distribute the last of my packed belongings from moving in last month when i ran across my notorious stash of condoms. To refresh the memory of those of you who didn’t read me way back when i had a whopping three visitors a day, i have a giant ziplock back of q-tips which conceals a sizable handful of condoms that i never spent money on and have never used. They don’t seem like the sort of thing i should throw away, so they’ve continued to live a blissfully undisturbed existence nestled in the depths of a multitude of cotton swabs. […]

  2. […] So, time has everything that’s tailgating me held off for the time being (at least to my perception), and i am left suspended in cruise control. Work, Friends, Sleep, Work, Rehearse, Sleep,… capitol lettered events leading me from one day to the next without a question. My bed has had a giant green Rubbermaid bin at the bottom of it for an entire week, and now fully half of its width is taken up with clothes and books i am sorting through, which leaves me a significantly less-than-human-size space in which to curl up at night. But, i don’t protest, because moving the bin or finishing my sort are things i haven’t scheduled any time for. And, so, i will arrive home tonight at 8pm (after another rotation of Work / Rehearsal) and i will leave for work half a day later and in the between bits my apartment will transform itself from scattered to neatly piled, and hopefully my thoughts will follow suit. Half a day to scrunch the remaining half of my worldly possessions into truck-sized bundles while managing to leave out the things i need to live: already packed are all of my belts, brushes, kitchen utensils, and ties vs. inexplicably unpacked snowboots, economics textbooks, and condoms, none of which i’ll be using in the next day. Or in the next semester, for that matter, unless some highly unpredictable/improbable things occur (like snow in October, me inexplicably switching back into the BS program i scratched and clawed to escape, or me having a romantic life that *gasp* includes sex)(see, i told you they were improbable). Somewhere at the bottom of a sorting pile of snowboots and textbooks (the condoms are segregated) lies an entire box of caffeine pills that i never opened. You do the math. […]