Blame it on the milkman

Sigh. Today was my big “Back to work with a vengeance” day, and I woke up with a searing migraine. And, I use the word “searing” because it felt like someone had stuck a hot fire poker through my skull and was slowly twisting. In other words, it was a doozie.

Fortunately, there’s medicine for it. Only one problem, it was at the pharmacy, and I had to go get it. So, as I waited in the drive thru line with my head on the steering wheel, watching the woman in front of me swinging her fist at (and missing) her two small kids as they bounced around in her back seat, I wondered, Why don’t pharmacies deliver?

I would tip them really well; I promise. I mean, heck, I’m already paying $23 a headache pill, what’s 20% gratuity on top of that?

Another item I wish were home delivered is milk. I say bring back the milkman! What happened to the poor fellow anyway? Maybe he suffered from “Blame the milkman” syndrome. I don’t know, but, oh, what I would do to have milk in the house when we need it, which is every single day. Yes, we are out of milk every day. I’ve tried buying two gallons of milk at a time. Know what happens? We are out of two gallons of milk every day.

My boys love to drink milk. When I say boys, I mean my eight-year-old and my husband, who is really an eight-year-old trapped in an adult man’s body, methinks. We girls, my daughter and I, who really need to drink milk since osteoporosis runs in the family, rarely touch the stuff.

Therefore, I never know if we are close to being out until I get the “Stop by and get milk” phone call, which is usually when I’m on the way home from the pharmacy! At the very least, I should be able to pick up a gallon of milk at a drive thru. We used to have a drive thru beer store, so why not a drive thru milk store?

All of this thinking is making my head hurt again. Think I’ll take another $23 pill and wash it down with a cold glass of milk, if there’s any left in the fridge, that is.