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I occasionally become aware of what a truly disturbed human being I am.

One such instance occurred today as I lay about bemoaning my illness that is just compounded by the malaise of desperate loneliness.

Earlier in the day, recognizing that Nyquil just was not cutting it, I decided to pull the trigger on a refill Walgreens told me I had on promethazine w/codeine from my last bout of terrible coughing. On my way home I checked my phone to see if the prescription was ready- it was not, obviously, or the story would be a short one. It probably will be anyway... So I grumbled to myself and cut across a few parking lots I to get home because it was the shortest route. It would make a lot more sense if you understood the lay out between myself and the Walgreens. There's a stretch of parking lot in front of the Walgreens, a road, a Dairy Queen parking lot, and then my street, so it would be ridiculous, you see, to go out of my way to get on the main street to turn down a side street to my street.

Upon getting home I checked my Walgreens app regularly for updates on my medicine like a girl obsessively stalking her ex-boyfriend's facebook page for updates, which is also something I have done, and also led nowhere. Eventually I did find something disappointing, which also happened with the ex-boyfriend, incidentally, which was that my prescription had to be verified. Verified!! I was instantly despondent. How could Walgreens have fooled me into believing I could have a medicine?! Why were they now telling me, what I already assumed, actually, that I could not have this regularly controlled substance?! Obviously the doctor wasn't worried about me later abusing this stuff!! I'll make all the purple drank I want, bitch, you're not my doctor!

Finally, I weighed the merits of putting on a bra to go get medicine. Must I? Do I really need to be able to breathe and sleep? Surely there are people that have done without those things in history and been just fine. But should I dare to go to the grocery store without a bra the people would talk and that would not be fine. The whole city would gossip! The gossip in Austin is just as insidious as New York- a harlot waltzing about braless would not go unnoticed. Surely! Indubitably! So, I resigned myself to bra life, and off to the store. First I would check my cabinets though, for they might contain some salvation. Relief from the looming trek. And, huzzah!, there was a bottle of Robitussin that did not expire for another TWO months! I was saved!!

I promptly flung off my bra and headed to the car. TacoBell would be my reward for finding the medicine I needed at home, as well as my punishment for leading my life the way I do.

Now to watch The Handmaid's Tale.


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