Eli went to Walgreens on Saturday morning to pick up my prescription, only to find that the insurance company refuses to pay for it because they don’t approve of this particular medication or it wasn’t the first drug they would prescribe in my situation or some other such nonsense. Because, you know, my insurance company knows more about my illness and the proper method of treatment than my doctor. Duh.
Eli returns home with this explanation, “I didn’t get your medicine, and if your car smells like old lady, that’s because when I came back out, there was an old lady in the driver’s seat trying to fit her key in the ignition and take off.”
Say what?
Yeah. Some confused person was in my car, thinking it was hers. Eli tapped on the window and said, “Excuse me. You’re in my car.”
“What?”
“You’re. In. My. Car.”
She replied that she thought it looked different. And she couldn’t figure out what “all this stuff” was. Meaning the stick shift? Because her car is an automatic. Riiiiiiight…
So this doesn’t bother me right now, because I’m still medicated and all, but when my drugs wear off and Monday rolls around, and I’m able to get good and pissed off, I’m so going back up to Walgreens and kicking someone’s ass. I’ll try to remember to lock my car doors while I’m in there.
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