I'll Be Dead By 30

I scare easily, like so easily, you wouldn't believe just how easily. As I stand in the kitchen checking on dinner, my boyfriend is in the bedroom on my computer. Minutes later, he says something to me and scares the crap out of me. I grab my heart and suck in enough oxygen for the entire state of Georgia.

"You are taking YEARS off of my life!"
"I don't get it. You know I'm here."
"But it doesn't work like that. I don't hear you come up. I've scared you before at your house."
"Yeah, but not on such a consistent basis. I, mean, you know it's a problem when I'm seriously considering wearing bells on my shoes."
"Ohhh, or like a dog collar with a bell. That would be great...Wait, what if you start carrying change in your pocket so I can hear you jingle. Or Tic-Tacs! I think there was an episode on Seinfeld about that one!"

More Than I Want to Know, Really

I just dropped my itty-bitty birth control pill in the trash can, unbeknownst to me. I crawled around under my desk to search for the stupid thing. With nothing in sight, it occurred to me to look into the trash can, and there it sat, at the very bottom of the bacteria-ridden container.

I would have preferred the floor, just so you know.