Oh man. I have the worst, worst, worst ever problem.
Here is my phone. Sitting beside me. Waiting. It has the doctor's number programmed. All I need to do is press the green button. Gulp.
I think I'm going to cry.
You see, my birth control prescription has run out of refills. So, I have to call and ask for more. But will they make me schedule an appointment?
The secretary there is kind of mean. She's one of those monsterous, tough, independent woman types who HATES little girls like me. Oh dear, I am such a female. I have every female characteristic, good and bad. I should be proud to be a femalish female. Well, not when I'm faced with that mean, lesbian face of doom!
This is what I want: 2 refills on the prescription, an appointment in June, and a new birth control method then, because this birth control has some bad side effects. So I feel like I'm being too complicated. So i should just say, in my strongest New York accent (which will, no doubt, come out half-British sounding), "Hey lady, I need a coupla refills on my prescription, so call it in to Wal-Greens, lady, and I'll make an appointment lata.
Okay, I am overanalyzing a bit (female trait?). I'm calling right NOW.
Shoot. That's the wrong number. Try again.
Okay. I got it. I talked to a nice lady, too. She made an appointment for me in June, just like I wanted. Hey, that was easy! I panicked for nothing.
This blog would make a great children's book.
1 comment:
I'm not quite ready for grandchildren yet so don't mess around with the birth control stuff. You can't have children while living so far from home. Sorry, but it's just not allowed.
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