So this evening I've been packing for an impromptu trip up to NoVA. And because I am who I am, I made a list of the things I needed to pack/do before I could go to bed. It involved things like find garb, pack toiletries, find and pack various medical supplies ... the usual for me on a Friday night of packing.
Nowhere in that list was there "spend an hour getting iTunes to work on my new computer" or "spend 30 minutes noodling over why the new computer doesn't like the DVI port on my video card." But those seemed to happen before the packing. No big deal, right? Packing only takes a little bit of time.
And then I couldn't find my pills. It was 11pm, I was tired and ready to go to bed, I still hadn't called Rich to tell him goodnight, and my birth control pills had disappeared. So I called Rich, trying not to be manic about it, and failing miserably. I was a wreck. This pack (wherever it was) was the last one in my prescription. I can't get more unless I go begging at the OBGYN. I can't go begging until Monday. That means two days sans pills and a completely screwed up schedule. My boyfriend is coming home on Tuesday after being gone for three weeks and I picked today to apparently throw my birth control pills in the street somewhere.
I always do this. I wait until the last minute. I've got a fair number of prescriptions to keep track of and they're all equally important. But at almost midnight on a Friday night I was feeling kind of hopeless.
I hung up with Rich so he could go to bed and I could rant "where in the FUCK could they be?!" over and over on my own without him having to be an audience to it. And then I tore the house apart looking for this illusive blue sleeve of pills. Finally, I told myself that I actually was out of pills. That I was looking for a pack of pills that didn't exist. So I consulted my online banking account to see when I last bought pills. Ah, yes, September 15th there's a debit of $75.69. That would be my pills. So then I do some math to remember which weekend was I packing for a trip and randomly put a sleeve of pills somewhere other than my nightstand. Because my pills are always in my nightstand.
Aha! Byron's wedding. I literally ran upstairs and dragged out my rolling suitcase. Deep in one of the inner pockets was a beautiful crisp new pack of Orthotricyclen. I was about to cry when I thought they were lost, but then I really was about to cry when I found them. Apparently, my addiction to condom-free sex and regular periods is stronger than I ever knew.
They must put something funky in those pills because I get weird if I go more than a week without taking them.