In Which the Consequences for Losing my Pillbox are Disastrous

I have a husband who fills my pillbox for me weekly. The reason for this is two-fold: 1. I'm too lazy to fill my own pillbox. I really can't be bothered to flip lids and divvy out pills. 2. I'm forgetful. I really can't be bothered to remember.

I know, you'd want to be married to that too, right? 

Well, about a week before my deadline, I misplaced my pill box. But because I was staying up late most nights to write, I never got a chance to tell hubs. So every night, at like 1 am, I would go to the medicine cabinet and just grab my pills individually. 

Fast forward a few days. Let me paint you a picture. 

I woke up in the morning and felt the need for an omelet with a side of a brick of chocolate. So I ate an omelet and a brick of chocolate. Then I went to the grocery store and bought a giant bag of corn chips and a big jar of that nacho cheese, and came home and melted the cheese and ate the entire thing. Then, for the leftover chips, I grated a bunch of cheese and melted it directly on top. 

Then I went to the gas station to buy five packages of grape Hi-Chews. And the gas station attendant was all, "Hey! I haven't seen you since last night. You already need five more packages of candy?" 

And I was all *flips him off*

Then I went to a birthday lunch for my sis-in-law, and I ordered one meal to eat at the restaurant and one to take home.

And then when I got home - and feeling the need for vegetables - I made myself some creamy cilantro dressing and steamed an entire bag of broccoli and dipped the broccoli in the dressing, but the dressing wasn't enough so I got another jar of nacho sauce so I could dip the broccoli in the cheese first and then the dressing. 

And with a full mouth, I called into the other room, "Sam! Can you make a run to Wendy's for me?"

And he's all, "I can't understand you, due to the fact that your mouth is filled with broccoli/nacho stuffs."

And I'm all, "CAN YOU MAKE A RUN TO WENDY'S FOR ME??"

And he's all, "Talking louder will not make you easier to understand. You have to empty your mouth first."

And I'm all, "Empty my mouth? So there's no food in it? Death first!"

And he's all, "Seriously, swallow!"

So, with a dramatic eye roll, I swallowed and didn't put anything new in my mouth so I could ask him, "Can you make a run to Wendy's for me?"

He gave me a surprised look, partly because I'd never in the history of our marriage asked him to make a run to Wendy's for me, and partly because I had just eaten ALL THE FOOD. 

He's all, "Um... okay. What do you want?"

me: "Two baked potatoes, with everything, and a large chili. Extra cheese. Hold the chives. Because chives are gross. And a frosty."

Him: "..."

me (putting another nacho-broccoli in my mouth because I've waited long enough): "What?"

him: "You want TWO baked potatoes? AND the large chili?"

me: "WHAT ABOUT GETTING ME THREE DINNERS DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND???"

Later that night, I went to the medicine cabinet to get my pills, and I saw an extra prescription bottle in the top right corner. I looked at the label. It was for my pills. 

Then I looked at the prescription bottle I'd just taken a pill from. It was prednisone. A steroid for people who can't breathe. It was also a dosage for a large man. 

One of the side effects of the pill is INCREASED HUNGER. 

I'd been taking prednisone for AN ENTIRE WEEK. While I was on DEADLINE. (I think another side effect is putting every fifth word in ALL CAPS). 

You can probably guess what happened next.

Yep. I got so mad at Sam for not noticing I was taking the wrong pill all week, and for the freshman fifteen I'd put on. 

He's so sorry.

By the way, I'll be at the Provo Library tonight at 7pm with the Dark Days tour. That is, if I can fit in my car.