May 26, 2005

Cough crackling

So there I was. In the pharmacy. Getting cough syrup. Of course, you have to give your name and details when you buy certain drugs these days (i.e. all the good ones). I know this so well that I'm able to tell the pharmacy droid behind the counter that my name is the second on the list on screen.

I don't think they actually use the data they collect, actively. I say that because if they did, I'm sure that by now I would have had jack-booted thugs kicking down my front door, demanding access to my stash of codeine, nasal spray (!) and asthma ventilators.

Anyway, astute readers will know that I had a cold a while ago. So I threw every known remedy at it. So it lasted about 24 hours, and then went away. Leaving me with a lingering, annoying, yet cracklingly-satisfying cough. Which is why I was in the pharmacy, getting Dilinct.

And bless the aged-pharmacist's benevolent heart, but he insisted on reading the package insert three times. Yes, three times. And we all know that aged people read like the dickens and whip through small print like it's a Clancy novel. Of course, this would not have mattered if I had not been in a hurry to get home to watch something or other on TV. Which, in this case, I was.

Anyway, I eventually got the cough syrup, after fending off offers of spoons. ("Yes, I actually do have a spoon at home. I use it when I'm cooking up crack... I'm sure it will work fine.")

Not convinced though, about the cough syrup. I'm still coughing.

Anyway, I'm off to have a cigarette.

  :::  a Thought ritual performed at 06:02 PM   :::