Selling Crazy to the Crazy

Greetings from the puddle that is the PNW during the rainy season. I've just returned from dropping the kids off at school, and there was a puddle in the parking lot that had WAVES in it. We had WAVES lapping up against our wheels.

T was told that unless he is projectile vomiting on his classmates--he was not to come home.

Well, yesterday, I discovered that my mother is too busy to read this blog, so I can basically say whatever the hell I want without fear of repercussions. BAWAHAHA! It sort of takes the fun out of mild profanity--I won't lie. Still, better in the blog than in front of the impressionables.

So, I've been working on Honor Six again. For those that are curious and intend on hounding me for the information, Honor and Reeve get married in Honor Seven, "Honor Bound." I think. I'm still trying to figure out the placement of "Maid of Honor," though. Luckily, while I didn't get to sleep until 2 am, I went right to sleep then instead of staying awake until four am. I need to focus on writing until I get enough sleep. Rewrites may have to be put aside.

So, last night, I went to pick up one of my OCD meds, and it wasn't until I'd opened it up to take one outside that I realized they were purple. I've been on the same meds for five years now. (Yes--it's a little sad, but thus is OCD.) These pills are, and have always been, pink. Back to the pharmacy I went. The Tech looked at me like I was nuts for complaining about my random pill sample.

I have OCD--obsessive--compulsive--what part of "you can't just throw pills in a cylinder and expect me to be okay with it" did he not understand?

Luckily, he realized immediately he was outgunned and dealing with the irrational and called for reinforcements. The pharmacist came over.

"Would you like us to make sure you have the right pills?" he asked.

Wendy's jaw dropped open. No. Yeah whatever. Slap some tic tacs in a container and that should be fine. Of course I wanted him to check.

"I've been on these pills for FIVE years, and they've always been pink," I explained.

He looked it up while examining the pills. I can see the "humoring the crazy person" going on, but I chose to ignore it.

Crazy people have rights too.

"You've always been on these pills, and they've always been that color," he said.

I laughed, because it was ludicrous. Seriously? They should have a note that pops up in my computer file while flashing "OCD" in big block letters. I think even people not obsessed with "sameness" would have noticed the color difference, though. Then, I gave him the look that said, "Go peddle your crazy somewhere else because we've already got our share."

"Let me look up the manufacturer," he suggested.

Yeah. Do that.

"Oh... that's it. This is from a different manufacturer--that's all."

My eyebrows raised. Could I let this go? Purple pills instead of pink? Would I spend the entire supply wondering if I'd been "had?" (The answer, of course, is yes. Yes, I would.)

The pharmacist cleared his throat and said, "We don't have any control over what they send us."

Crap. I brought my lame purple pills home, and I'll be forced to take them, but I won't be happy. Purple... not pink... purple. Oh, and because he had managed to make me think I was crazy, I looked at my empty RX bottle's pill description. Pink. They were pink. Different manufacturer, but they were pink. Lies--all lies. I can't believe he tried to tell me that they'd always been purple. Sell your crazy elsewhere, buddy--we're full.

There--just in case you ever have a strong desire to create an insane character. That's your dose of the reality of a person with OCD. It's a cold, cruel world filled with bastards trying to pass off damn purple pills on you.

(See--it's truly not as fun without suspecting my mother would be offended.)

In other news, my heel looks better today. Running would involve also swimming today, but I've done it. We'll see how I feel after yoga.

BTW, I should get going.