No longer being a student has caused me to completely lose track of time. Everytime I think about what day it is, my first guess is always wrong. Apparently, I am also confused as to what month I'm existing in.
The other night, I decided life called for red wine (life calls for red wine VERY often - demanding, really). I toddled on up to the liquor store and bought my uber-classy $9.45 bottle of screw-top Frontera merlot. (Hey, desperate times.) While I was next door to Sobey's, I figured I would pick up a couple of quick items. I grabbed a can of chickpeas and a can of tomato sauce, which I later combined with baby spinach to make a delicious supper. I also picked up a container of cream cheese, which I was delighted to find on sale. An obsessive expiry date-checker, I assessed that I had loads of time to go through said cream cheese.
The next morning, I had in the shower a rare moment of time-awareness, and recalled the date on the cream cheese I had just purchased (but not yet opened). I then swore out loud, because I realized that the date in question was March 27. Upon finishing my shower, I double-checked. Yes, indeed, my cream cheese had been expired for a week and a half.
Good thing it was on sale.