I rush to Safeway to pick up several waiting prescriptions for both me and Don. If we don’t collect them soon enough, the pharmacy staff puts them back on the shelf and you get to start over. I figured I could wait to eat lunch when I returned home. A week before July 4th and I thought it would be a quick trip. Wrong!
I join a line of 10 people, right behind a woman leaning on a mini-cart. She was wearing pajama bottoms and black & white fuzzy slippers that coordinated well with her beautiful ruby earrings. She had dark hair cut short but not quite shaved. Close. Maybe a month of grow-out. Her oversized top was slung over one shoulder where I could clearly see a bra strap. Where the bra stopped down the front of her was undetectable. Good Lord, she was undeniably a poster girl for breast reduction. I stepped back, fearing that one snap from poorly made undergarments could knock me out cold. That might be a good thing today as I’m now hypoglycemic with shakes and perspiration. How bad would it be if I grabbed a bag of chips staring me in the face or visit the bakery for samples?
My new friend leaves her cart in the pharmacy line and tells me she’s off to check on the pork meat section to see if they have anything worth buying today. When she returns, her mouth went into overdrive. Her first topic of discussion was housing. She tells me when the money runs out from the sale of her house, she’s not sure where she will go, but she’s looking forward to qualifying for Medicaid. Her husband unexpectedly died 5 years ago at age 77. Once her assets are spent down, she will qualify for Medicaid. At this point, I have adjusted my hearing aids 3 times to try to lock in to her voice frequency because she insists on whispering. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea as I’m sure the other 8 people standing in line are quite entertained although none of them have the inclination to turn around and help me out.
She quickly moves on to the subject of children, step-children and grandchildren and I lost track of who’s who in the flood of over-dramatic body language. I see her mouth moving, but I can’t hear her. I, therefore, monitor body language. It tells me if I should nod my head, remain deadpan, start laughing or look surprised or shocked. Forty minutes later, I’m shaking and too warm to keep wearing a jean jacket. Poster girl is still yaking non-stop, but I’m focused on how fast I can rip open anything edible before I pass out. I excuse myself and run to the fruit section. I grab 2 apples, one to eat and one to use the barcode to pay for the one I will eat. I return to the line waiting in the pharmacy area of the store. My fluffy-slippered friend didn’t miss a beat and we continue from where she left off.
I make a comment that this is the second time I’ve had to wait in line over 40 minutes to get one Rx pill costing 69 cents to kill the fungus on my skin that develops every time I get overheated. This is when my partner in line tells me she gets that under her breasts from time to time. Aw man, I really did not want to address that elephant in the room. The 6 foot guy in front of her doubles over. Yeah, yuck it up while my body temp rises even higher from embarrassment. The woman never shut up.
After I devoured the apple like a beaver on a log, yak woman steps up to the pharmacy window. On her way out, she introduces herself and off she goes with her sporty short hair, ruby earrings, and fluffy slippers. I’m thinking next time she might want to check out Instacart where she won’t have to choose between football (or anything else) and the grocery store.
Note to Self: That will be the last time I skip lunch before hitting the road to town on a quick errand.