Folks needing to comment and looking ridiculous during it

I got a bit annoyed with a comment that someone had left me the other day. She was responding to my review of a salad establishment.

She basically asked why I was craving salad for a month when I could have bought some at the grocery store. This person decided to nitpick one particular sentence without seeing the greater picture.

It's not like I was sitting on my salad craving for a month, which was her interpretation. If she had looked at my other reviews or photos, she would have seen salads before and after this review. 

I basically told her that it didn't make sense doing grocery shopping in a city an hour away, heading home to toss a salad with my grocery items, and returning to this city to resume my errands. I wasted time writing an explanation. It should have been unnecessary, but she truly didn't get it.

I find that with social media, folks feel the need to comment on everything. She was being mildly critical without understanding that I needed to eat lunch and decided to get some at an eatery. 

Sometimes, less is more. It's the case here.

Sleep on weekends

I slept well last night. Here's hoping that I can repeat.

I slept better on weekends. It's likely because I am not thinking about work. I don't have to start at a specific time. It's casual. It's good.

Reorganizing plastic bags and panties, fixing earrings, and more

Over a year ago, I was getting rid of stuff at home that I didn't need and reorganizing the stuff that I wanted to keep. I then went on what I didn't know was my last trip with my ex-guy. Since the breakup, I haven't had the motivation to reorganize my stuff and pick up from where I had left off.

I am motivated now.

On Sunday, I looked at all plastic bags that I had thrown into multiple bags and folded them up. They are now organized by size. I also found my iced tea flask. I will be brewing iced tea with a bunch of tea bags that need to be used.

I folded all my panties and bras in my drawer the way Marie Kondo does hers. I will say that it's such a major improvement and I have a nice, cheerful collection of panties and bras. I'll be doing socks and pyjamas next.

Finally, I have been converting earrings with French hooks over to leverbacks. I don't like the former because the hook part jabs into me when I wear them and I don't like the tiny plastic backings on the hooks. The conversion is pretty simple. I need to reorder more leverbacks.

I like that I have various projects on the go. It's great that the time that I used to spend commuting to and from work is put into tasks that are meaningful.

Coughing fit after seeing poultry blood at the supermarket

It has been an interesting learning experience when it comes to having bronchitis and how my coughing gets worse when I am mildly stressed out.

On Saturday, I felt well enough to go out and get some groceries. I haven't had much to eat for breakfast, other than cereal and English muffins. Then again, my appetite has been shot until now.

The person in front of me at the supermarket checkout had packages of chicken drumsticks. One of the packages had the plastic wrap torn wide open. I was watching the man try and put it back together. He then had chicken blood and juices on his hand, which he decided to wipe on his jeans.

I used to work in food services. It's not the proper way to handle food. I sensed a ton of food contamination happening, among other things. Considering that I am recovering from being sick, I am sensitive to spreading germs.

I spotted chicken blood that his package had started by the product scanner. Sure enough, the cashier scanned my mixed bean salad across the blood and the scanner. I had to point out that she needed to wipe the blood off her scanning area as well as my bean salad container.

She was good with my request. I was so grossed out, but thanked her. I paid for my goodies, put them in my bag, and headed over to my car.

By the time I had loaded everything in my car, including me, my coughing fit had started. A minute later, I was okay.

I am typically not that squeamish when it comes to seeing poultry blood. However, I am not my normal self, so it was an observation that I found intriguing when I am sick.

Y is for yes, please!

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