It was the end of a long, long, very long day of writing and my brain felt like oatmeal. Ok, lol, that was a joke.
My brain felt like shit.
Far too often I wake up worried I might have suffered a series of small strokes during the night that wouldn’t necessarily reveel themselves in the way I behave, but would show uop in my righting, and I was at the ned of won of those dayz.
But guess what, I’m a mom, so that means shit brain or not I am on duty 24/7. And when child call out, mama answer.
Today, just as I’d packed it in and was ready to lose myself in a goblet of Castelfino Jaume Serra, I got a text from daughter number 2 reminding me to pick her ADHD meds up from the pharmacy. She said she absolutely could not go without them, and that meant I had to shelve the liquid narcotics and be a better mom.
I put on some pants, and set off, in my car, to the pharmacy 2 blocks away. Ugh, the exhaustion.
Truth be told I reconsidered driving, considering the shape I was in, but decided if I could pull out of the garage successfully, I was good to go. Carport extraction successful, I was off.
Here’s where I should mention that the following realization may or may not have something to do the with the events that unfolded subsequent to my pharmacy run/drive. Disclaimer: I hadn’t eaten in days, thanks to my self-imposed goals at work and the goals my bathroom scale (in cahoots with my jean shorts) had imposed on me when winter changed to summer. And I was failing at both.
Got to the pharmacy, stood at the counter, realized my outfit was pret-ty, pret-ty, pret-ty telling. Kind of a depressed housewife meets binner vibe, which launched an instant neurotic domino effect.
Over doing it on my manners to make up for my appearance I was near-treacly with the poor pharmacist. “Hello and good day, madam! I am here on behalf of my daughter to retrieve an Rx – pharmaceuticals to you and me – if I may!” Big apologetic smile.
The pharmacist looked up the info on her computer, and that’s when I realized, to my horror, the promotional placemat-style sleeve on the pickup counter was egregiously off-centre. It was almost on the diagonal, which was deeply unmanageable, for me.
I started straightening the sleeve of promotional materials, ensuring it was perfectly aligned with the front of the counter, but not bumping right up next to the edge. I placed it an estimated half-inch back, and in perfect symmetry. Then, I fixed the e-POS thing that was also unforgivably askew. I picked it up and placed it in the middle third quadrant so it was easy to reach, and straightened it so it looked nice, and that’s when I noticed the pharmacist standing motionless, looking at me.
“Have you taken this medication before?” she asked, pretending to forget I said I was there for my daughter, just in case.
“Oh!” I chuckled like a normal person. “This is for my daughter,” I said. “I’m unmedicated.”
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