my not unattractive male doctor shook me off his leg, breaking free of my slobbery embrace, and sent me into a world of slacker contentment. the less ticky-tacky farkle narkle i have to deal with, the better. i have the capacity to go catatonic if my schedule becomes more complicated than: remove sweatpants. put sweatpants in a place where i'll be able to find them. see world. return to sweatpants.
yesterday, standing at the walgreen's counter, i was denied my refill.
my jaw dropped in a way i'd previously thought only happened in cartoons.
i looked like the girl in the back row of a christmas concert, singing soprano on "oh come all ye faithful."
the white-coat shrugged, his shoulders licking the corners of his bow tie. he consulted with his manager. he came back.
my mouth was still hanging open. broken hinge or something.
"state law says prescriptions expire after a year," he said.
this seemed like the sort of timely information that could have been given to me last month so that by this month this interaction would just be the silent exchange involving my prescription and the monthly lip gloss i buy myself as a special congratulations for good behavior.
by now i was picturing mars quickly budding and greening, like time-lapse photography. i looked at this cheeky pharmacy major, law enforcement minor and decided that if need be, he would be awarded the grand prize of one dumpster baby.
anyway, a phone call and fax later, my not unattractive male doctor pulled through again. when chuck called me a "trapper," we were able to laugh.