The fridge, the medicine cabinet, and the closet skeletons

I had this conversation with Min the other day:

T: Anyone in a new relationship should clean out his medicine cabinet.

M (completely baffled): Why?

T: In case she looks.

M: Why would she look in someone else’s medicine cabinet?

T (completely baffled): It’s a new relationship. Of course she’ll look in his medicine cabinet.

Well, apparently Min never checked out my medicine cabinet. I’m now thinking that this may be related to the same gene that prompts me to eavesdrop in restaurants. We writers like to link this to our interest in human nature and our need to develop rounded characters, but it’s possible we’re just ridiculously snoopy.

Along those voyeuristic lines, I found this collection of photographs featuring refrigerator innards. For the record, my fridge most closely resembles that of the journalist/designer/school teacher who writes obituaries for the local paper. What exactly does that say about me?

And no, I’m not posting a photo of my medicine cabinet!

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