For the last three days, I have sounded like Demi Moore, or at least in my head I do. I called my mom and she said I sounded “manly”. Which makes me think of Eddie Murphy. Ummm, no. Not the way I want to sound. Sigh. I’m tired, even more so than usual. I know I have more on my plate than I should, but I just haven’t been able to get myself under control. I go through periods of good health then all of a sudden it hits me like a ton of bricks. I know why I am feeling this way. I am still grieving. I am letting everything get to me. Taking care of my sick doggie somehow comforted me and now I don’t have that, so I am feeling lost. This is normal and I need to let go. I hate this process though. Okay, back to me. Now I know why I am getting sick.
I make the call to the doctor’s office which of course, can’t call something in because heaven forbid I self-diagnose my own sinus infection. Once again, I ponder my career choice. I arrive promptly on time because I do not like being late. I wait for over an hour. Sigh. I am seen and given scripts for medicine and told to ask for over-the-counter pseudoephedrine, which is not over-the-counter anymore, but in fact is behind lock and key. I go directly to the pharmacy because I feel like my skull is going to explode from the pressure behind my eyes. I ask the girl how long and she says 20 minutes. I tell her I need the stuff behind the counter and I don’t want to forget to ask for it. She says I can get it when I check out. I stroll around looking at nail polish (like I need more, but there is always one more color I don’t have), and finally hear my name called before I make too many impulsive purchases. What? A candy bar. No idea how that got in there. Anyway, I remember to ask for the “special special” medicine. She asks for my driver’s license and it is weird. I jokingly say that I don’t have a mobile meth lab. Every eye behind the pharmacy counter stops and stare at me. For real. What did I say? Oh, meth lab. Well, you know, I roll like that. With my nose spray prescription, antibiotics and Sudafed I am deadly. Sigh. I have to sign in three places and tell them to have a good day. I don’t think they know how to take a joke.
It reminds me of the time I was in the airport and the sign said “no joking” and I laughed. I use humor to make myself and others around me feel better. Apparently these people don’t know the study of gelotology. Laughter is suppose to alleviate stress, not cause it. Hmmm. Not to self, do not joke about meth labs in a pharmacy. It doesn’t matter that I am a mom of two kids and that it still baffles the mind that our society has come to these measures. I can remember days long gone where the pharmacist knew you and I ran barefoot into the store looking for Chiclets. This is not the world I live in now and sadly, I must force myself to realize that. Find humor where you can folks, and continue to laugh. Just not in airports or drug stores:)
“Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.”