So I can't sleep. This is not news. I haven't had a decent night sleep since approximately 1996. Maybe even 1995.
To help me overcome this, I generally swallow a big handful of Tylenol PM on Friday nights.
Okay, not actually a big handful. But like four. Every Friday night. Also, sometimes on other nights. Several other nights.
Yes, I know this is not good. I really do. Please do not send me ugly emails telling me how bad this is. It was just either this or never sleep and when I never sleep I get really ugly and really cranky and sometimes I bust out my Chookie moves at work and none of this makes anyone happy. None of it. So the Tylenol was the lesser of two evils.
Except not really because when Big Jim (my beloved therapist, if you are not in the know) found this out? He gave me the big eyes and told me I better stop with the quickness lest I damage my internal organs forever.
Words like forever are scary to me, so I asked him what to do instead.
He told me to take Benadryl. That it would help me sleep and my insides wouldn't turn into a pile of mush. That sounded mighty fine, so I headed off to the Kroger.
Okay, it was like two weeks later. I've been bad at shopping for basic necessities since my husband moved. Also, I'm running very low on clean towels, so I'm really looking forward to moving.
I'm fairly certain that the Kroger I frequent was designed by someone who hates me. Especially the pharmaceutical department because oh my good Lord I can find twelve kinds of Luna bars and fifteen kinds of suppositories and every brand of toothpaste known to man, but for the love of God I can never find any actual medicine. Ever.
Plus the aisles are intended to house only one person at a time and a thin one at that, so I parked my buggy beside an end cap, instructed my son to STAY CLOSE TO MY PURSE OR I'LL KILL YOU and eased my fat ass into the aisle that contained not one, but two old women. They were pretty thin so I guess it was okay, but it looked like it was going to be very uncomfortable.
I stood there for what felt like twenty years but was probably only like thirty seconds, totally not finding the Benadryl. I found every single thing BUT the Benadryl, but not the stupid Benadryl.
Old lady #1, let's call her Eunice, noticed my dismay.
"What are you trying to find darlin'?" Eunice asked me. Then she coughed. It was one of those coughs that indicated she's been smoking for at least 75 of her 90 years.
"Benadryl," I told her.
"I seen that," she told me. "I seen it. I was looking for this and I seen that Ben-Gay. It's over there. Can you believe this little bottle costs twelve dollars? I ain't paying twelve dollars for this. For twelve dollars it'd better buy me a damn dinner."
I tried really hard not to laugh.
"Benadryl," I told her. "Not Ben-Gay."
"That's what I said," she told me. "It's over there."
We both stood staring at the racks for another full minute.
"I'm sick again," she told me. "I went to that doctor and every time I go down there I get sick. My daughter works there and she called me and asked me how I was and I told her I was sick and she said AGAIN? and I said HELL YES again because every time I go to that doctor I get sick!"
"I'm very sorry," I told her.
"S'alright," she told me. "This is what you need."
I have no idea, none, how she found the Benadryl. It was on the very bottom row and somewhat hidden behind various other medications. None of which were Ben-Gay. I don't know how she could have possibly seen it. But she did. Ninety-year old Eunice found the drugs I needed.
"Thank you so much," I told her. "I hope you feel much better soon."
She laughed. Eunice, who was probably a beautiful woman in her youth and certainly was a lot of fun even in her old age, threw back her head and laughed.
"Honey, if I was any better, I'd be dead."
I have no idea what she meant. I kind of doubt she did either.
But I still laughed.
I won't miss much about Tennessee. But I will miss old ladies at the Kroger.