Turns out, I had a pretty great day yesterday. I planted tomatoes and repotted some flowers and then I went to work, where I had some decent sales and some fun customers (a costume designer for a TV show being filmed here was one of them). And, when I got home Greg was raking up the ugly gray mulch in front of the house so we can put down some pretty red mulch in its place.
I needed to run to Walgreens to pick up a prescription for prenatal vitamins and we needed some milk, so we went to the store and and odd thing happened there.
I told the lady at the pharmacy counter my name, she pulled my little white bag from a bin and took it over to this older guy who I assumed was the pharmacist because he had yelled at her while I was waiting in line because apparently, she was doing something wrong.
And, he looks over a me and yells "are you pregnant?"
I sort of looked around, thinking "is he talking to me?" And, I realized he was.
"No," I managed to blurt out.
He gives me a look and says "are you trying to get pregnant?"
"Yes, for about the last five years," I said.
I didn't get a response from Mr. White coat. And he handed the lady the little bag and she comes over to the register.
"I'm so sorry," she said. And, I wasn't sure if she was apologizing for Mr. White Coat or for our inability to conceive.
"My sister just had a baby and they tried for eight years," she said.
"That's wonderful," I said. "There is hope!"
I paid for the script and the milk and we left.
On the way out Greg asks me, "what kind of medicine did we just pick up?"
"Oh. WTF? Why did he ask you that?"
I don't know. Maybe people are abusing prenatals these days? The thought had crossed my mind during our exchange to say "no I'm trying to grow out my fingernails."
I mean, why would you need to ask that? Isn't it fairly obvious?
The whole exchange just irked me. I've never been asked any questions when I picked up a prescription for prenatals. And, I've swallowed a whole hell of a lot of prenatals. There's nothing worse than being asked if you're pregnant when you most certainly are not, no matter how bad you would like to be. It's the same feeling you get at the dentist when before they do the x-rays they ask you if there is any remote chance that you might be pregnant and you have to say no. There is no way in hell that I am pregnant.
Geez. Thank you Mr. White Coat for trowing a monkey wrench into my otherwise fantastic day. I went home and comforted myself with chocolate chip cookies and the new episode of LOST.