and I didn’t have time to rifle through my Big Box O Drugs (when you mother is a pharmacist, this is something you always have with you) for my horse tranquilizers (the affectionate nickname of my prescription meds that make me into a blubbering but blissfully numb idiot two days a month), so for my eight-hour shift I subsisted on the de-cramping powers of three Aleves and a Snickers bar, and that was kinda not enough by a long shot because my uterus spent the day auditioning for a horror film in which it plays a parasite intent on torturing and murdering its host, so my routine became “make a latte, double over in pain, make a frappuccino, double over in pain, complain about the coffee grinder, double over in pain” which was not really ideal, really not ideal at all, and can you tell that I have found my narcotics now because I don’t know how long I’ve been writing this sentence.