Pouty Mc-Pouts-A-Lot…
In the continuing saga of how Heather is a brain-dead bunny… Apparently, I caused my own withdrawal. Because why? Because I am a moron. I mean, seriously. WHAT. THE. FUCK. There should be a picture of me next to the “Do not operate heavy machinery” warning.
Last week? When I tried to circumvent the pharmacy staff to get the refills on my old angina prescription? I didn’t even need to. The pharmacy had already filled the scrip. The day I went in. A week before I ran out of meds. They called my doc and he faxed it in, I guess. But did the pharmacy call to tell ME they did this? NO. They did NOT. So here I was, trying to tricky-dick my way around the system and I didn’t even need to. I should have double-checked with the pharmacy! Why didn’t I check with the pharmacy?!? Because I’m a moron. Because I forgot. Because my body is being held hostage by thyroid and/or peri-menopause symptoms!
This entire last week of me not being able to sleep because of horrendous hot flashes, nausea and chest pain? Could have been completely avoided… if I weren’t a moron. Next time, and there WILL be a next time, I’ll send myself reminders through my email… Or maybe, I should just hire an assistant to help me with all of this! A fit, attractive, young man who could, you know, keep me on task. By reminding me of my appointments… whispering hotly in my ear as he gave me scheduled back rubs… I’m pretty sure that would keep me on the ball… so to speak…