I am a miserable sick mess. It feels as though someone has stolen my puppy (better known as summer time shenanigans) and then added insult to injury by putting a voodoo curse on me that makes my nose run CONSTANTLY.
Instead of sitting around and wallowing in self-pity (any longer) I decided to visit my friendly neighborhood pharmacy to procure a cure for my plague.
I wandered the isles looking for the perfect miracle cure. There are so many medications to choose from and I have no idea really what the difference is between them all. So I went to the pharmacy counter to ask someone knowledgeable what my best bet is for kicking some summertime cold ass.
After going over all (and there are a lot) my various options, I decided on the 12 hour dose of something that promises to dry me up like the desert. I whip out my debit card to pay, and the pharmacy lady asks me for my ID. Not because she needs it to confirm that I am not using a stolen card, that is what pin numbers are for, but because apparently she needs to register me into some sort of database of sad sick people who purchase cold medicine. It took forever, I must have stood there for like 10 minutes while she entered my entire life into her computer. I know why.... it's because Tweekers have ruined simple drug store trips for the rest of us by making meth out of EVERYTHING. I was so irritated that I am sure I was giving her the stink eye. Do I look like a tweeker? Do I look as if I know how to cook at all, let alone meth??
Dripping snot on the pharmacy counter was not my most glamorous moment, but I don't think I looked THIS bad. Geeezzzzz
Many moons later, when I finally made it home, I took my medicine like a good girl and proceeded to pass out. Lather, rinse, repeat until I am finally all better. I wanna play in the sun!!!!!