The BEST thing about an, er, beauty emergency that occurs right after closing time on Friday afternoon is that I am forced to go to the weekend Urgent Care, which means Paul is home and I don't have to bring any children with me. There are only so many times I can say, "PLEASE don't lick that" before I lose my borderline-germphobic mind.
Today I brought a BOOK to read in the waiting room! And I didn't have to explain ANYTHING to ANYBODY, other than "what I was there for" to "who I was there to see," which is okay because everyone involved was a consenting adult and nobody said "But WHY?"
Then, of course, I had to fill the prescription, and what could be more convenient than the Target pharmacy? And when they said, "10-15 minutes," I said, "Oh dear no, TAKE YOUR TIME" and went browsing around in the near-total silence of both my ears and my mouth, broken only by the sound of OTHER people's whining children, which is like the sweet relief of listening to a phone you don't have to answer.
I bought some Girl Scout Cookie ice cream, and the cutest little baking sheet EVER (it's for a toaster oven and it is SO WEE), and there wasn't really anything on clearance but I looked at the picked-over remains, and I considered a shirt for Elizabeth, and then with HUGE reluctance I went and paid for my prescription.
I wanted to take the first pill right away, but I was already at my car before I remembered that, so instead of going back inside to the drinking fountains I went to Wendy's and got a fish sandwich combo, which I know will totally gross out some of you but MAN I love fast-food fish. And I took my first health-restoring pill with a big drink of diet Coke, followed by a french fry from a packet I didn't have to share.
Then I drove home in a quiet car. Best time I've had in weeks. I should have a beauty treatment more often.