Last night after I switched the laundry at 9 p.m., I went to fill my husband's prescription for Vicodin, carrying the wet clothes that must lay flat to dry. The first pharmacy didn't have the correct strength (and refused to give me a different strength), and the second one could only cough it up after half an hour of hunting. In the process I nearly followed a possum into the CVS.
Someone has a lot of anxiety about his health, and since having one wisdom tooth removed two days ago has been in constant fear that a possible side effect, dry socket, would develop. As far as I know, continual anxiety does not decrease the possibility, so I'm not sure why one would worry.
In Someone's defense, the dentist did promise a quick, painless extraction, and instead wrestled with the tooth for half an hour, while Someone sat there, awake and defenseless. Hence, the Vicodin prescription. Anyway, after some worrisome shooting pains two days later, I was sent to fill the prescription. Our regular pharmacy was of no help, so I continued walking down the street in my pajamas, slightly worried that I would be taken for a person in search of a fix.
The second pharmacy was packed with only one lonely employee on duty. I resented the crowds. One woman was in an extended discussion with her husband over whether or not to purchase the medicine, which the insurance wasn't covering, for $324. Another man wanted to talk to the very busy pharmacist about why the money you owed for medicines varied depending on your insurance. I wanted to get rid of these people. But I finally did get the Vicodin, just in time to pick up the dried laundry.
Anyway, the possum. I saw him out of the corner of my eye in the shadows and thought he was a rat. Upon further examination, it was much bigger, following the protrusions of the building in and out until he walked over the sensor in front of the doors and the doors opened. (I can't imagine why sensors need to be so sensitive as to admit a small rodent. Or there 10 pound people who sometimes need to be admitted to CVS? Small babies, perhaps?) He went inside. I debated: I needed to get the Vicodin and go home. Should I take my chances and walk past?
I had almost made up my mind to do so when a couple of young guys inside began to try to persuade the possum to leave. The possum moved over another sensor and the door to the inside of the store opened. But instead, the possum decided to leave the way he came--darting toward me with an unexpected speed. You can believe I made way for him.
Someone never ended up using the Vicodin.