an attempt to write a post without a single .gif or .jpg.

Hmm, quite.

These are my words: Tonight was my first experience in getting a prescription filled and picked up. For my own particular use, in fact. Not many things in my life have made me feel like a grown up as much as having a stranger fill a plastic bottle that has my name on it with small white pills. Cannot explain why this is, but here I stand. It was an experience and a half, and of course there was a line, and everyone (EVERYONE) knows that line situations make me antsy. So I innately turn inward and try to ignore the 468 people in front of me who have various as-yet-unnamed conditions. Me, I'm hypothyroid. NBD. So n e wayz, I roll up to the line like, HI GUYZ I'M GETTING DA DRUGZ TEW!!1one!1! and make my way to the back of the line. People who are familiar with the prescription drug scene (in the legitimate way I am describing for your benefit now) are probably rolling their eyes at me, but just like, judge, I guess. It's new to me.

Everything's fine and I'm just mindin' da biz in the cough and cold remedy aisle. I subconsciously (because by now I'm engrossed in reading all the medicine boxes) take in the fact that someone has gotten into line behind me and I carry on. Approximately 15.7 seconds later, this person leans into my space, as if in need of support. Coming into my space, as it were. Just coming in. Onto my back. Cannot emphasize enough how much this stranger, in line for drugs for who knows what ailment, began to use my immediate bodily area for their own physical support. Being the passive aggressive gem I am, of course I don't look back or acknowledge said leaning, I slowly and stealthily shift my weight forward so there is a more socially appropriate amount of space between me and The Leaner.

Thankfully the line had shifted by this time to indicate that I was "next" (what was supposed to happen after that I was still clueless. Oh the intricacy of this new situation...) and I was able to create more distance between us. I can tell the woman in front of me is wrapping up her shiz and I'm about to move forward when The Leaner (most likely named Carol) pulls her signature move and, touching my back between the shoulder blades (creepy) inquires as to whether they (the pharmacists, I'm assuming?) were calling our names or if "we were just hoping to get lucky." Not sure what either of those statements meant, being the noob that I was. Fighting the urge to backhand her across the face for touching me twice (the first time of which remains unexplained to this day), I half turned (details gleaned about The Leaner from this glance: Oldish, approximately 57 years, 5'3", female, glasses, LEANS ON STRANGERS IN THE PHARMACY LINE) and said, That's what the line's for, I think. Ha ha, ha ha ha.

I made a bee line for the window as soon as the previous customer shot off maniacally on her motorized scooter and didn't look back again.

Thank you, Smith's Pharmacy. Let's do this again in a month...

I'm in a glass case of emotion, nobody makes me bleed my own blood...

Etc.