“Every man is guilty
of all the good he didn’t do.”
- Voltaire
Welcome to a Monday in Sarah’s world.
They’re all very quiet. Mondays are what I wish Fridays were like, but that rarely happens. This week is especially quiet, with it being so short. Most everyone has taken this week off. It’s a ghost town around here.
I am STILL battling with this evil head cold, which is starting to piss me off. I’ve overmedicated in an effort to at least lessen the severity of it, but it’s still here. And it’s not yet an infection, so the doctor will just tell me to suffer through it and “get lots of rest and drink plenty of fluids”. Well, thanks. Glad you got that medical degree. What really sucks is that my head is ALWAYS swimming because of the medicine. And I got the REAL stuff, so I can’t really sleep.
Speaking of, buying that was quite the experience. For those of you who didn’t know, a branch of the recently passed Patriot Act deemed it necessary to keep some formally over-the-counter prescriptions behind locked doors because people were buying anything with pseudoepinephrine in it to make large quantities of meth. So, now, you have to take a slip of paper to the pharmacy counter, provide your driver’s license (which is then scanned and kept on file), sign a log book with your address, telephone number, and birthdate.. it’s hella inconvenient. And the medicines you USED to take that you now DON’T have to do that for? Well, they’ve most likely (quietly) changed their formula and probably aren’t as effective. (This is why Nyquil did nothing for Sarah on her honeymoon, much to her consternation.)
I had known this for awhile, but had not yet made the trip to the pharmacy counter to purchase some regular ole Tylenol cold. After eating thai with the also-under-the-weather Steph, I was feeling so poorly (and the curry had done nothing to open my head up) that I braved the counter. I was prepared to bitch and moan at the pharmacist about losing my civil liberties, when I noticed the shifty man in front of me was also holding two large boxes of matches. And a thing of Drano. Um.. genious, no.. but obviously a meth addict. And the pharmicist said, “Sorry, Charlie; no go this time.”
He got huffy but eventually realized he’d lost that battle and left. I was in such shock at the audacity of that man that all I could say when I got to the counter was, “Man, I am so sorry you have this job.” She sighed and said it happened more than I realized. We chatted casually while she did the mountain of paperwork for me to purchase Tylenol, but then she just KEPT talking and KEPT talking and I realized that her job was some sort of karmic punishment for her being so damn annoying.
Hm, that really wasn’t very sunshiney and positive. Nevertheless.
Went to auditions yesterday, which was fun. Sort of. I didn’t get to read much, but I’m going back tonight. Maybe the magic will happen then.
Delle and baby Matthew came over last night for awhile. He is THE most precious baby. Except when I’m holding him; then he becomes satanic. I don’t know what about me pisses him off so much, but I do it well. I think it’s going to be our new “thing”.. I hold him and pray that my maternal instincts are at least sufficient for him not to imitate an exorcism, and he dashes my hopes at an octave that makes most dogs squeal. It’s cute.
That’s all for now. More later, I’m sure.
