…Totally Tried to Kill Me.

Betsy and I have been going to a nice local tea room for brunch on Sundays. That, however, is not where this story takes place. No, it takes place in a far more common place. I’ll go ahead and tell you that we DID eat brunch at the nice local tea room, and it was delightful (it always is). This story takes place on our journey to brunch bliss.

We made the decision to “brunch it up” and proceeded to get ready for the assuredly-delicious culinary consumptions that would soon follow. We crated Sam (our min pin), walked out the side door, locked the door, and proceeded down the wooden deck stairs into the car port. I walked toward the driver’s side of my car as Betsy simultaneously walked to the passenger’s side. Suddenly I felt my foot kick something hard, round, and small(ish). Suddenly, whatever I kicked started screeching at me like a demon that just had one of its wings ripped off! I caught a glimpse of the dastardly creature. It was about the size of a humming bird. Black with a hard exoskeleton. My glimpse lasted for all of .05 seconds because suddenly, still screeching, it spread its wings and charged at me!

Let me pause for a second and say; I consider myself to be a reasonably manly man. I’m no Paul Bunyan, but I’m still pretty manly. Having said that, when the small, black, screeching demon spread its impressive six-to-eight-inch wingspan and charged at me, I screamed like a little girl watching a horror movie. The creature didn’t fly up initially. It charged at my feet as I jumped around, trying frantically to escape certain death. I knew it was faster than me, so I knew running was out of the question. The rest, honestly, is a blur. I skipped, dodged, and squealed until the beast decided I wasn’t worth it any longer. He flew like a Wraith out of Mordor from the garage and toward the trees in our side yard.

I looked at Betsy. She had an expression of horror mixed with amusement. “What was that?!” she asked.

I responded, “I HAVE NO IDEA! Whatever it was, it totally tried to kill me!”

Betsy, still surprised at the sheer size of the animal said, “Was it a bug? Because, if it was, it was huge! It was bigger than a humming bird!”

We got into my car. I sat in the seat, wide-eyed and simmering in adrenaline. “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced…seriously…ever. I didn’t even realize we had bugs that big in Georgia.”

Betsy motioned forward and said, “Well, lets get a nice cup of tea and calm down.”

So, we did just that. We ate a delicious brunch of French toast, eggs, sausage, and Paris black tea.

When we returned home, the bug was nowhere to be seen. Thinking back, the bug was probably pretty scared. It didn’t start screeching until I kicked it, so it was probably doing what it did in self-defense. Regardless, it still scared the cheese out of me!

The Bottle Top Conundrum

Tags

ADHD

This morning started like any day. I woke up. Took a shower. Got out of the shower. Stood around. Looked at the floor for a bit. Brushed my teeth. Applied deodorant. Normal stuff. Then my morning took an unexpected turn.

I was at the point in my morning routine when I would normally take my focus-inducing, doctor-prescribed amphetamines (ADD drugs). Suddenly the unthinkable happened. the ADD monster attacked with a Lose-Focus +1 spell and landed a critical hit. As the spell wore off, I looked around my bathroom sink, trying to remember what I had been doing. Drugs! Right! I scanned the counter top for my prescription bottle. When my eyes landed on it, I immediately noticed the lid had been removed from the bottle. I looked at the bottle quizzically. I was certain the lid was on the bottle when I started my morning routine. I mean, I assume I was the one who removed the bottle top, because I didn’t see signs of elves or fairies this morning. No, this time I HAD to be the culprate.

With the bottle top removed, and me unable to remember whether or not I’d taken my medicine, I quickly started scanning my brain for solutions. Solution #1 seemed logical. I could assume that I had not taken my medicine, take my daily dosage, and risk a double dosage. Definitely a viable solution. Only, being high on amphetamines at work is usually a bad thing. My eyes grew to the size of ping pong balls as I delighted in the though of the next solution, Solution #2.

I would think back to the day I got my prescription refilled, which was last Friday, and try to remember all of the pills I had taken from my 30-pill bottle over the last week. I would then subtract that number from 30, and count my remaining pills to see if the correct number of pills was in the bottle! With a grin on my face, I started counting pills. I was such a practical and intelligent man. Solution #2 was perfect.

After losing count twice, and realizing I had no idea how many pills I’d taken since getting my prescription refilled, frustration started to set in. I came to the sad realization that Solution #2 wasn’t perfect and was, in fact, quite flawed. That was when I thought of a third solution. Lets call it “Solution #3”

I would just not take my medicine. I would assume that, since I allegedly removed the bottle top, I must have also taken a pill. Of course, if I hadn’t taken my pill, I would be a groggy, ADHD mess by mid-morning. I would be completely unproductive, and by lunch I would be fired from my job. Admittedly, a worst-case scenario, but the solution still wasn’t great. I stood at my sink for at least two minutes while my inner perfectionist tried to find another solution. Then he found one, and he called it, “Addendum to Solution #3.”

I ultimately decided to go with the modified version of Solution #3. The addendum to Solution #3 stated that I would put my pill bottle in my bag and that I would take my pill late if I felt groggy and unproductive.

Its 8:11am right now, and I’m pretty sure I know whether or not I took my pill during my perilous moment with the ADD monster in the bathroom this morning. Lets just say I’m thankful for “Addendum to plan #3”.