As of Friday afternoon at 3:08 pm, I’m pretty sure I became the first person banned from the Drug Warehouse drive through. But it wasn’t my fault. Really. Yes, I know prisons are full of people who say the same thing, but this time it really wasn’t my fault. At all.
Friday, after parent –teacher conferences were done, I took Daughter 2 to the pediatrician to make sure her ear infection was cleared. It was. But, she now had strep throat. We left the medical center and drove to Drug Warehouse, where I dropped off the prescription and then ran over to the QT to get us a drink.
After we were sufficiently hydrated – me with a chocolate shake and Daughter 2 with a sour apple slush, I drove us back to Drug Warehouse and waited in line to pick up our latest round of antibiotics. Just as the car ahead of me pulled up to the window, my phone beeped with a text from my friend FloJo asking me if I had ever seen the movie Mozart and The Whale. I texted back that I hadn’t seen it but to tell me about it. Spring Break was upon us, after all, so I had plenty o’ time to sit and watch movies.
Quickly, FloJo texted back that the movie was about two people with Asperger’s syndrome (among other tings) who fell in love with each other. Being smart-alecky as I am, I texted back, “just like me and The Dad?” And then the car ahead of me pulled away and I pulled up. The window cashier asked, “How may I help you?”
At this same time, Daughter 2 discovered that on the van clock, the “3” is just a backwards “E” and wouldn’t it be something if the time were “E-O-8? Wouldn’t it be funny? All the other numbers are the same front and back.”
And, overwhelmed by the texts, Daughter 2’s backward number-letter discovery and the request to be of service to me, I responded to the window cashier, by saying, “Two Aspergers in love.”
The window cashier said, “Excuse me?”
Daughter 2 said, “Momma! Did you say ‘ass’ at E-O-8?”
I looked at the cashier and said, “I need to pick up a prescription for Daughter 2.”
FloJo texted me back and said, “Just like you and The Dad.”
The window cashier said, “What’s the name again?”
I said, as I was reading FloJo’s text, “Me and The Dad.”
Daughter 2 said, “Why’d you say ‘ass’ at E-O-8?”
The window cashier said, “What?” And Daughter 2 announced, “My momma said ‘ass’ at E-O-8!”
Quickly, I repeated Daughter 2’s name to the window cashier then I removed my uber-cool una-bomber glasses and put them on top of my head, immediately regretting it since they have those rubber-comforter pads on the nose bridge and those stinkers get tangled in my hair.
While the cashier was getting Daughter 2’s prescription, I leaned over to Daughter 2 to explain to her that I didn’t say ‘ass’ at E-O-8. But before I could explain to her exactly what Asperger’s syndrome is, I felt a sneeze coming on. I have a slight lactose allergy which causes me to get all sorts of snotty and sneezy when I eat ice cream or drink a milk shake. And since I am fat, 40 and pushed an almost 10-pound Daughter 1 out of my loins, I have pretty close to NO muscles in my loin area. This means that when I sneeze, I also pee my pants.
Then I sneezed (and peed) and sneezed again (and peed again) and sneezed some more (and peed some more).
And when I sneezed (and peed), my sunglasses fell to the front of my face, dangling directly in front of m my face from my hair.
Completely overwhelmed with the whole situation, I began giggling, with my glasses dangling and my pants wet and my daughter sitting next to me saying, “You said ‘ass’ at E-O-8. I heard it!” And this is what the window cashier found when she returned with the receipt for me to sign. I signed it and got the heck out of Dodge. What other crazy thing could go wrong with this transaction?
I pulled through the drive through and pulled over to the side of the parking lot so I could untangle my glasses and readjust my rear so I didn’t completely flood the seat and basically compose myself.
Daughter 2, who is one tough cookie, started in on me, “Momma…”
“Honey, I said ‘Asperger’s, and it was an accident. I did NOT say, ‘ass’ at E-O-8.”
“Fine,” she said crossing her arms in front of her, “But you did forget my medicine.”
As I drove back through to get the medicine (and my prescription card!), the window cashier reminded me that I could go inside and pick up my prescription so I wouldn’t be so distracted.
Well, yeah, but the drive through is so convenient!!
