Well, are you? I bet you are.
No, really. I mean, it’s so clear. Anyone who’s anyone is pondering it right this very minute.
See? That’s right. What I’m thinking… what you’re thinking… is that it’s high time to take control of the masses through the reckless use of pseudoephedrine hydrochloride.
Doesn’t it give you a little shiver of delight, when we’re in synch like that? Oh, baby. Yeah.
Actually, I had some assistance in arriving at my master plan. This morning, all I had on my mind when I woke up was getting Chickadee ready for her class pictures. That was Plan Numero Uno for the day, and I was not to be swayed from my goal!
Except for two things.
First of all, the children came back from their afternoon with Daddy last night and Monkey had forgotten his blanket and puppy at Daddy’s house. Much tragedy ensued. We have multiple, identical blankets which pass muster, but there is only one Baby Puppy. Monkey was verging on hysteria as my poor ex was trying to get out of the house without having to promise to deliver the goods that very evening. The ex proposed that it would be grand fun to take Baby Puppy to work with him the next morning (today) and then when child and dog reunite this evening, Puppy could tell Monkey all about his day! Monkey wasn’t falling for it. His whining was reaching fevered pitch and in desperation I found myself shouting out with a kind of crazed glee:
“Hey Monkey! I have a GREAT idea! Let Daddy take Baby Puppy to work tomorrow, and then Puppy can make a xerox copy of his BUTT on the COPIER for you! Wouldn’t that be GREAT??”
And ya know, I am ashamed. I don’t know what came over me. But it will never be said that I do not understand the mind of a four-year-old boy, because that was just the ticket. Monkey clapped his hands and agreed that for a photocopy of puppy hindquarters, he could survive a night without his pal. Peace was restored.
So at 6:30 this morning I was single-mindedly focused upon how to make the morning go smoothly and yield Chickadee at her most calm and beautiful for pictures–or maybe I was still drooling on my pillow–and Monkey burst into my room and demanded that we call Daddy and remind him to xerox Baby Puppy’s butt. That was diversion number one. Although I have to admit, it was an entertaining phone call.
The second diversion from Operation Pretty Picture came as soon as I tried to lift my head from the pillow. I’m still fighting a cold, and my sinuses let out a collective groan when I moved. It probably didn’t help that Monkey coughed all over me while I was trying to raise my clogged head, either. A round of cold medicine for everyone! But I was out of daytime cold meds for me, and I gave the last dose of the children’s cold medicine to Monkey. Well, that’s okay. I’ll go to the store after I get the kids to school.
As yet unaware that this was to be the day I would plot to control all of humanity for my own evil purposes, I went on with my morning as usual. I only had to tell Chickadee to get out of bed forty-seven times, and after a brief attempt to do something “fancy” to her hair, we settled on one of her standard styles. Her clothes had been negotiated the night before, thank God. Breakfast was served, lunches were packed, and we were halfway to the bus stop when I realized I hadn’t washed her face again after she ate. No matter; I whipped a tissue out of my pocket, spat on it, and quickly rubbed off her milk moustache. (Nothing says “I love you” like washing your kid’s face with saliva.) (With the possible exception of her response being, “Mmmmm, minty!”)
We waved at the bus and then I took Monkey to school. After we said our goodbyes, I headed to Wallyworld for cold medicine. Mind you, I am not a fan of this store, in general. But this morning it had several things going for it: 1) It is the closest store to Monkey’s school, 2) It was open at 8:00, and 3) Stuff is cheap there.
I thought I was just selecting cold medicine. A twin-pack of Nyquil. A “value” pack of daytime maximum sinus relief caplets. And two children’s elixirs; nighttime and daytime. On my way back up to the registers, I happened upon some Summer clearance, and picked up snorkel sets for the kids for $.50 apiece. I was feeling rather pleased.
And then it happened. I was pegged for the evil, plotting genius that I am.
Wallyworld cash registers will not allow you to buy more than three pseudoephedrine hydrochloride containing products at once. Because Wallyworld is all about taking care of their customers. (As long as you’re talking about dangerous substances like decongestants, that is. If you need some assistance in housewares, go to Target.)
I put the Nyquil back. I think I still have some of that, here, and I was in need of the daytime stuff and I figured I’d look like an asshat if I put back either of the meds for the kids. The poor cashier–all of 18 or so–was very apologetic, rambling on about how she doesn’t understand why they have that rule, she was so sorry. Little did she know that my brilliant plan was hatching even as she fumbled with the blue plastic bags.
Are you with me? Of course you are. Let’s get started. Listen carefully to the sound of my voice. I’m here to help. Your sinuses are getting very clear… clearer… clearer… and you want to do my bidding….