Tuesday, November 11, 2008

My Scarlet Letter

Sunday we wake up and Gray gets ready for work. Normally I would sleep in when he leaves, because I'm lazy like that and this time of year I can't ever seem to get enough sleep. My body thinks it should be hibernating or something. Anyway, I can't sleep in this time because I have to go to Walgreen's and buy the Plan B pill. That's right - our little condom fiasco resulted in my doctor recommending I go take an emergency contraceptive. Which is so odd, since this whole mess started with us WANTING to get pregnant. O the painful irony. (Wait, is that irony? I get confused by irony and call things ironic when really they're oxymorons or some shit.)

So I'm up, and we're puttering around drinking coffee. Gray leaves for work, his hands full with his lunch box, a bag of dishes to return to friends who were over for dinner Friday (they cooked for US at OUR house, trying to get them to move in here now), his guitar, his coffee. Not three minutes after he leaves, I find his work badge laying on the dresser in our bedroom. His badge is one of those computerized deals that he needs to be able to get around the building. I try calling him to report the AWOL badge, but get no answer. So I decide to hop in my car and drive two miles to our work, hand it over myself. Except my car is missing from the underground parking spot. WHO WOULD WANT TO STEAL MY CAR!? I freak out. I try calling him again. I race around to the outside parking lot. Nope, my car was definitely parked underground on Friday. God, now I have to call and report my car as stolen! What a clusterfuck!

Oh, wait. That's right. My car is still parked at work where I left it Friday because Gray picked me up for our doctor's appointment and we forgot to go back and get it.

WHEW ok, glad I remembered that before I filed a police report. Ok, so I'll hop on our bicycle and ride the two miles to work, drop off Gray's badge, leave the bike in his truck, and pick up my car. Perfect! I head outside in a sweatshirt (sweating, not realizing is 26 degrees and snowing out), unlock the bike, and begin to ride it. The chain slips. Fuck! I don't know how to fix the chain. I try to fix the chain. Nope, that didn't work. Ok, fine. So I walk the bike back to the apartment and I call a cab.

About this time, Gray calls to say he got my frantic messages and I don't need to pay for a cab to take his badge. He doesn't need it, it's ok.

But I need to get my car! I have to go buy the Plan B pill, I remind him.

Where is your car? he wants to know.

OH YEAH we left it at work Friday. (Glad we're finally both on the same page of reality now.)

So I pay a cab $10 to drive me two miles to my car, run inside and drop off his badge, and head out to Walgreen's.

I don't know if any of you have ever had to buy Plan B. I've never done it before and I wasn't looking forward to it. The pharmacy technician (of course it was a good looking guy. of course it was.) carded me, then gave me the "dirty whore" eye. Ok, maybe I imagined the dirty whore eye. But it felt like I had a giant red "A" on my sweatshirt. I resisted the urge to explain my situation to him, please don't think I'm a hoe, it's not what you think. I couldn't figure out a way to explain what happened without giving him way too much information, all unnecessary. So I bit my tongue and tried to look as non-whorey as possible.

And that is how I came to be depressed all over again. It's cold, it's dark, and the Universe is detemined to keep me down. In fact, I'm pretty sure the Universe is holding me down while Algebra pummels the ever-loving christ of my head every week. Oh, did I mention the endless post-D&C period, which ended last week, appears to have started again? Either that, or Gray broke me.

**UPDATED** Well, this appears to be the beginning of my November period. That's right: my October period lasted until two days before my November period started. Lovely. I'm sure you all needed that information. Good luck enjoying your strawberry jam now!

11 comments:

  1. Sounds like a great day all around.
    And, I think at this point, you're not having Peroids...you'e having Exclamation Points.

    But then...I'm not a doctor.
    Yet.

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  2. Whoa. That's all I have to say. I both admire and feel slightly uncomfortable by your honesty and bluntness. But I think you might be a keeper. anyway, I'm adding you to my blogroll.

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  3. Mmmm. Jam.

    Sorry, had a Homer moment there, mainly because I don't eat bread during the day. More digestive tract bullshit -- no toast or bagels or cereal for breakfast, not so much of the nausea. No oatmeal with homemade strawberry/blackberry jam swirled into it.

    Wow. I am totally looking forward to eating my apple for breakfast now.

    I have so been in that situation -- not buying Plan B, but totally wanting to explain some ridiculously complicated situation to prove I am not an idiot or a whore or unhinged.

    Lucky for me I move to a completely new city and state every few years, so it cuts down on repeated acts of apparent whoredom or stupidity.

    Oh, yeah, with the kids and the vomiting and the not kenneling them -- best case, they vomit when the Dad or the Grandma is around, so you pass the kids off to them and have a sudden urgent errand you HAVE to run. Right now.

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  4. If that pharmacy dude was thinking that he is a hypocrite because most (if not all) of the men I know like dirty hos. Some are even dirty hos themselves.

    Oh, and thanks for my superfantabulous bloggy award! I have NOT been online much lately because my laptop is still dead, and I have had no time to hookup my desktop and no money to buy a new one.

    So, I hope you haven't rescinded my award and shit.

    And you think I was ranty before? You have no idea.

    Blah blah blah. I am rambling.

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  5. Actually it turns out apple with nuts and strawberry jam is not that bad. No Costco Parmesan cheese bagel, but not bad.

    Yeah, the whole not being able to have people get that they don't know even a part of your story sucks. I look fairly healthy, other than weighing too much, I don't think I look like I have a stupid disease. So when it's kicking my ass and I have no energy, I feel like people must think I am just a fat lazy bastard. Instead of a diseased fat lazy bastard.

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  6. No matter what I get at the pharmacy they give me the dirty whore eye... Once I filled a weeks worth of progesterone pills and they acted like I had 2 heads.

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  7. Ouch, a bad day in toto. It'll get better soon.

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  8. If only that had been a giant red A+.

    Then that pharm tech would have had reason to wonder. Don't sweat it, he's just a clerk in a smock.

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  9. I have gotten the dirty whore eye at the pharmacy before too. It happens to the best of us!

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  10. I'm so sorry you had such a crappy day. Let's hope November improves for you-

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  11. Hilarious...well, not really, but you tell it so well. My favorite times are when I buy 2 bottles of wine, tampons, and pregnancy tests, just to cover all my bases. The grocery clerks LOVE that one.

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You.Yeah, you. Speak the fuck up.