My beloved told me, “Oh, I’ll bring you two months’ worth of Lexapro sample.” My insurance is shite, so two months’ worth of my Normal Pill is $70. Guess who forgot to bring me any Lexapro?
I forked out $35 for another month’s supply — happily, might I add — after waiting two days because my beloved kept promising to bring some home.
So, yesterday I left work like a bat out of hell. I ate grapes, feta cheese and a piece of bread for dinner and completed two levels of Buffy: Chaos Bleeds on PS2. I was an animal! Killing and killing and killing is very cathartic. For point of reference, I suck at video games. It took me two weeks to finish the first level. Two levels in one night? In three hours? I wasBuffy the Vampire Slayer.
At random intervals, I would pause the game and knit. I don’t know why.
On my way to the pharmacy this morning, I wrote a knitting pattern for a poncho, had an imaginary conversation with , and zipped painlessly through High Five construction traffic. At the Super Target, I bought my Lexapro, flirted with four babies, picked up two pounds of Granny Smith apples and a box of hair coloring product, looked at underwear for my Salvation Army Angel (didn’t buy any because I didn’t like the colors), and finally got a grande nonfat latte from the Starbucks inside. Nothing like washing down my anti-anxiety medication with 20 ounces of caffeine!
If the above activities seem random and disconnected to you, you’re right. And that’s why I’m on Lexapro, my friends.
I’ve been listening to “Eerie,” a mix CD Dyna sent me a long time ago. It’s mellow and twangy, and I like to sing Angel from Montgomery loudly in the car with a thick Texas accent. This morning, I switched to Sting’s newest CD, which led to thinking about Dyna and mentally telling her that I was switching from Eerie to Send Your Love. Then, I launched into a conversation with her about Send Your Love. I decided that she would think that her Greg would like it, too. And even in our imaginary conversations, we got off on some tangent that now I can’t remember, but I ended up thinking how
weird fortunate I am that I have a friend who I know so well. Although I expected after reading this entry, she’ll change her phone number, email address, move and stay unlisted.