As I get older I realize more profoundly how people are just different.
By different I mean, just different from one another. I don't mean different. Only some people are like that. Okay, maybe a lot. And most of them are related to me. But that's not the point, I promise.
What's tolerable or okay to you? Maybe not so much to me.
Refrigerators are apparently my hill to die on. I can't quite figure out why this is, but I do know that I simply cannot sleep at night if my fridge is not organized, clean, and just so. I like my eggs in a certain spot, my butter in another. My cheese goes in a certain drawer, my milk goes in the door. There's a place for everything and everything in it's place.
I'm not like this about anything else. My desk, for example, looks like a huge paper monster vomited all over it. I just don't care. It doesn't bother me, even in the slightest.
But my fridge has to be perfect.
And so does my freezer.
Oh and my cabinets? They have to be all organized too. But again. Not the point.
I didn't know that other people aren't like me. (Except for my own mom. I have no idea how she ever finds anything, EVER, in her fridge) I was raised that it's not polite to open someone else's fridge, so I never do.
And then...there is work.
There are two refrigerators at work that I am fairly certain are holding dead bodies. When they are opened? The smell makes me gag. I don't have a clue what "treasures" they hold, but Holy Moses on a bike the smell could knock a dog off a meat wagon. It's truly horrifying.
Others? Not so much. They can stand there, door open, carrying on a conversation about...I don't know, feminine hygiene products or some crap. All the while, I'm holding my breath so I don't LITERALLY VOMIT while they pluck something out and toss it in the microwave. Totally unaware.
I don't know why it doesn't bother them, nor do I know why it bothers me so very much. I don't know how people can brush their teeth at work and not rinse the spit out of the sink. I don't know why people take credit for things they don't do. I don't know how I can live on so very little sleep and I have no idea, literally none, how to not let the million things that are currently bothering me make me lose what's left of my mind.
Tolerance levels are an interesting thing, aren't they?
I don't know how a dirty, smelly refrigerator became a metaphor for my life but there it is.