T-minus 38 hours until liftoff. I’m so tired I can’t think straight and yet I still have tons and tons of stuff to do.
I know, boo fuckin’ hoo, poor widdle baby has to go on an insanely amazing trip. Like I said before: I love to travel, but I fucking HATE preparing for it.
Also, I’d like the pharmacist at my local Sav-on to take a long walk off a short pier for refusing to just give me enough damn birth control to go out of town without having to check with my damn doctor, which of course can’t be done until tomorrow/this morning.
Really, it’s not like it’s Oxycontin or anyting. It’s not like I can sell it for a profit. It’s not like it’s illegal. It’s not like I can overdose on it. There’s absolutely no reason it shouldn’t bloody well be over the counter in the first place.
But, thanks to that pharmacist not having the sense to realize a notation in the file is insurance-based and not based on any actual medical concern, my insanely long list of little things I need to do before I leave got a little bit longer.
And for that: Long walk off a short pier.