My life has recently become extremely boring, and I have neglected my blog a little bit just because I didn't want to bore anyone (if, in fact, anyone reads me at all) with details of how mundane things have become. Work, study, hang out with Andy...well, really, that's it.
But the other day something happened that I think is a little bit funny and more than a little bit awkward, so I figured I'd share.
It's true; I'm not the girl with the purest of reputations. I stay over at Andy's house so, well, you get the idea. I'm also not trying to get unexpectedly preggo, so I am on the pill. I am, in fact, practically a worshipper of the pill because I think it is probably the most wonderful medical discovery ever.
Yes, ever. It's totally bigger than penicillin. I mean, yeah, okay, penicillin is good, too. But the pill is better.
On Monday, I had to start a new pill pack, and I put the pack in my computer bag which, when I left to get Andy to go to a baseball game, I conveniently left sitting on the dining room table at my parent's house. Needless to say, when I'm at Andy's house, pills at my parent's house do me very, very little good.
Since I had to work the next morning, I had to swallow my pride and text my dad to ask him to please bring my medicine to work so that I could take it just 11 hours late, rather than more like 18 or 19 hours late. I thought maybe referring to it as "medicine" would distract him from my true intention.
"Bring me the thing that makes it possible for me to make bad decisions and face little to no actual consequences, please, daddy."
Well, who would say that, anyway? I just called it medicine and hoped he wouldn't think too much about it. I figured my chances were pretty good since generally men don't worry too much about facts and don't think about things that they don't have to think about. Cross my fingers, anyway.
Well, he didn't bring the medicine--he brought my whole bag. Nice, I thought, at least he didn't rifle through and find the pills--I mean, it's pretty telltale packaging. So I dug through my bag to find my pills when, lo and behold, I also discovered a little plastic Ziploc baggie in there--filled with condoms and tampons.
Great.
If it wasn't bad enough to ask for him to bring me pills, if he peeked into my bag, he would see all sorts of other feminine items of a questionable nature. Poor daddy. I can only hope that, rather than go through my bag, he just picked up the whole thing and was blissfully ignorant of the morality-corrupting wares he was delivering to his eldest daughter.
Let's hope for that, anyway.
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