Recently, I’ve been fairly obsessed with finding expired food. I’ve started to go through Mom’s fridge and the one at the house. Today, I crawled through part of the kitchen cabinets.

So far, my victims have included:
– Peppermint flakes, that expired in 2017
– Rice cakes – 2023
– Mustard – 2016
– Chicken salad – 2023
– Wings – ??

I’m not sure why I’ve latched on my war against expired, but often still edible, food. My intent may not be to toss it but to consume it. It get rid of it in one way. Although, typically, it tends to end up in the trash.

I guess it’s best to be safe than sorry. By tossing it, no one can become ill. When possible, I’ll toss bread types of waste out for the birds. At least, it’s not going to the dump.

Let’s see… This week:
Chiro times two
Centerstone
Jason has a blood draw and massage on Friday.
Time with the little sister on Thursday.

That, plus rough drafts coming in from Bryant, should help keep me busy.

Charsis is, I guess, in the review mirror. They haven’t reached out concerning a nutritionist or therapist appointments. No more weigh-ins or scary Medi-cab rides with stalker-ish drivers who don’t speak English well.

I’m thankful for that. The cab drivers allowed a huge trust leap between me and a stranger. These people knew where I lived. Some had my phone number and others texted. The drivers and the supervisors would call all just for a ride.

I didn’t like it at all. I shouldn’t be forced to share personal information like that at all and they shouldn’t have it, especially since I didn’t voluntarily provide it.

I’m also enjoying the whole non-brainwashing thing. The RO-DBT and other behavioral theories were getting to be a bit much. Unfortunately, the more and longer I’m pounded on, the more seriously I tend to take those things.

There is something wrong with me. Obviously, I can’t figure it out or handle it myself. These pushy but often likable and well-meaning people seem to be passionate about what they’re selling. And I find myself falling for it. Slowly. Their theories creep into my thinking like a the puss of a pimple.

I have to be careful.

But, right now, Jason has all of my support. Well, he always has but he’s entering in a particularly sticky couple of months. He’s starting to take the three-step test to become a certified internal auditor.

I don’t know much about it, to be true, but it’s a pain in the butt. I can’t do much but wave some pom-poms but that’s what I’ll do.

Regardless, I know he’ll conquer.
It’s just getting there.