Sweet Yvonne is worried because she’s storing poop in her refrigerator. Honey, that’s nothing.

At least it’s your own fridge. When I was young and pregnant with Belle, and had numerous doctor’s appointments which forced me to leave school early, I stored my urine specimens in the teachers’ lounge fridge. This might not have been so awful if I had put them in a bag or something, but we had none. Hey, we were poor. The only time I had a small bag was when I bought something small, and with no money, who was buying anything? (Kind of like now.)

We didn’t have any foil, either. Or even baggies. I tried waxed paper with a rubber band but it wouldn’t stay on.

Also, the doctor didn’t supply the container back then, so I used the empty bottles from the spice cabinet I got for a wedding present.

Teachers on break opened the fridge to get a coke or some juice and saw, right smack in front (lest I forget to grab it and take it with me to my appointment) a small attractive apothecary-type bottle. . . . full of pee.

It wasn’t all that great a fridge, either; the condensation on the bottle kind of added to the gross factor.

Now see, sweet Y, don’t feel bad.

If mine looked like apple juice, yours probably looks like fudge.