Random story time from today. Here we go. You see, my biology-from-last-year/anatomy/study hall teacher always has her anatomy students dissect cats at the end of the year that they order en masse, already shaved and everything. If any of the cats are pregnant, they put the undeveloped fetus/embryos in jars with formaldehyde. As a result, the whole biology room closet has two shelves devoted just to jars of cats. They needed to clean their closet out, and thinking of my collection, I asked my teacher if I could have some of the specimens. She said, "okay, sure."

That was a while back. And today, she actually let me have some of them. I ended up with six jars of fetal cats.

The problem? It's, you know, six jars of cats. That I had nothing to carry with. And the fact that school had just let out, so the whole outer hallway was swarming with people. And that's... not really an atmosphere you want to walk out carrying jars of cats in, especially when you want to sink into the pavement and die from all the weird looks, or have to explain why you want six jars of cats. (Hint: most people don't like that kind of thing.)

So I ended up cleaning out my backpack and stuffing a few of the larger jars in there before I made a dash for the locker room... and then realized I couldn't keep the cats in my backpack, because the glass may break.

I had a locker, a backpack, a computer bag, a half-empty lunchbox, and nowhere else to go.

I think you can guess where the cat jars went.

I have never, ever felt so shifty and serial-killer-y in my life than in that moment where I was kneeling in front of my locker and arranging jars of dead animals in my lunchbox while everyone else was completely oblivious to what I was doing.

It didn't help that I was wearing my animal rescue shelter t-shirt; there's something horribly, ironic about that somehow.

But hey, now I have some more wet specimens, so that counts for something.