Predictable...

Over the weekend, my neighbor's teenaged son snagged me at the door as I was on my way back to the comforts of my own abode. He was in the mood for a little chat. Since I happen to be a fan of the younger set and their views on the world, I thought I'd oblige. I am one who is keenly aware of my worldly air and the responsibilities that we worldly types have with regard to molding the futures of the young 'uns. I'm a Giver. It's just what I do.


His purpose for the discussion, among others, was to question me with regard to my tendency to keep to myself. "We never talk...how come you never talk to us?" I was able to successfully put him off with some blather about how I work so very many hours and am often quite weary what with being so darned worldly all the time and the incessant need for molding youthful futures. I then asked him who did the taping on the flames he'd recently had painted on his car (knowing full well that he did it himself) and we were off onto happier topics. Seventeen is still well withing the "highly distractable" age range. He didn't really need to hear the truth of the matter.


Frankly, I find that chatting with extraneous persons accomplishes little save keeping me from doing what I want when I want. And what I want is my nice, little Life Rut. I like it when things stay the same. I like knowing where things are and when events are going to happen. The Rut makes life happily manageable. I'm not saying that all systems at work here are good ones. In fact, many of them make little to no sense whatsoever. But, change does not please me. Change means running around the kitchen in the morning yelling, "Where are my keys? Who took my keys? They are supposed to be on top of the coffee maker...now they are gone! What fiendish powers be at work here in my cursed home?"


This is what you get for changing things all around and putting the keys on that hook shaped like a key by the door. That's where you hang the tangled necklaces that you will someday get around to unknotting...


With this commitment to sameness, you can imagine the drama that has been caused by my changing pharmacies this week. The whole plan makes sense on the surface. Back when I could get my prescriptions through internet orders or via the doctor calling them in, it didn't matter quite so much. But since my pill bottles now come filled with what the government considers a controlled substance, I have to present myself, my prescription and my honest face in person. Using the pharmacy at the grocery store, where I shop at least weekly, will allow for more efficient drug procurement. As much as I like my little pharmacy down the street, it's a bit out of the way and they charge more for a bottle of Mountain Dew. Yes, using the grocery store pharmacy makes perfect sense.


I put it all off until the last possible second, though. Going to the strange counter was a little scary for one who loves the sameness. In fact, I waited long enough that I ended up having to break out the "old" drugs that I'd never gotten around to taking and which are of the wrong dosage. But, when those ran out, I was forced to move forward. And yesterday, I did just that. What I didn't count on was the insurance company suddenly having to go offline yesterday and being faced with shelling out a couple hundred dollars for a month of pretty pills or waiting until today to get them. This meant two trips to the strange counter. With the strange pharmacy techs. And having to go through all the privacy paperwork...again. But, I struggled though it and left the store with my little white bag in hand, proud of my having braved this new frontier. I brought the bag into my house proudly and even gave a hearty wave to a neighbor as I was entering the building. Maybe this is the start of a whole new Sheepie! Maybe I'll take new risks! Maybe that lace project that I have now ripped back five times (the last after realizing that I'd been knitting on a needle two sizes too small all along) is within my grasp! I'm going to wear red with purple and take up swing dancing!


Then I looked at the new pill bottle with the new logo and the exotic new literature that comes with. Panic ensued. The child safety cap is different. Instead of "push down and twist" as I have been doing since time immemorial, I must now execute some complicated thumb pressure while twisting and I'm still not sure if I'm supposed to be pushing down at the same time. This is madness!!!! Madness, I say! "Vive le Difference" my fanny!!!


This is also is something of a setback with regard to the New Swing Dancing Sheep plan. Maybe I'll just settle for putting the keys on the hook...that's enough of a change for one day.



SA