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.

In my haste to find these stalwarts of my bathroom collection a new home i perchanced to examine their shiny wrappers and, much to much chagrin, my abundance of free condoms all expire this month! So, seeing as there’s about a week left to go, i’m thinking their happy home in my apartment might very well be my bathroom trashcan. Actually, all of them were expired save for one, which is good until my 21st birthday.

Does your god send you messages about needing to get out of the house more through expirations dates on contraceptives? No? Just checking…