Reading: John Fowles, A Maggot

3 December 1999: Stupid

HAO and I were supposed to shop this afternoon but she turned out busy and I was feeling unsteady so we went severally home and did not emerge for "Toy Story II" later.

I was feeling unsteady because I am an idiot, saga 37. Just before 7 Friday morning, brushing my teeth, I realized I had not taken my pill. Lunging from the sink to the bureau, whereon the pills live, I was lunging because I further realized I couldn't remember taking my Thursday pill either.

And I had not. I sucked those two down right quick. Two you're supposed to be able to handle. Three you're not.

I used to think you weren't supposed to catch up from three pills because by that time you'd probably have ovulated or at least begun to menstruate and that month would be a wash anyway. I thought that until I discovered late one Sunday afternoon in 1991 when I went to pee that I was indeed bleeding, which led to the discovery I had not taken Friday Saturday or Sunday, which discovery was followed by my popping three pills in succession.

This was in Boston. Waltham, but whatever. I felt nauseated on the way back to Storrs (90 miles) and by the time I pulled off the highway to puke south of Norwich halfway home (another 45 miles), that was my second or third spewing. Note to self: you are far too stupid to remember to take a daily pill, let alone to raise a child.

Two pills you're supposed to be able to handle. I did, and I kept them down, but I felt queasy on and off during the day, even in the Tattered Cover. And I was at the TC having a lot of fun.

The loot: for NAV, A Snowy Day, for NJV, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, and for MLV, The Runaway Bunny, and for the family, Little Bear. For NKW, How the Grinch Stole Christmas and The Beatrix Potter Christmas Activity Book (which both boys can grow into), and for AEW, a Pat the Bunny Crib Activity thingie. For ZBD, Ask Mr. Bear and Corduroy, and for her parents, film, so they can continue to take photographs for me of the most beautiful child ever. For ZLT, Harold and the Purple Crayon, which she might be too young for, but if she's as brilliant as the reports indicate and I better be quick if I want to see her again before she learns long division (she'll be three in April), then she might enjoy Harold. For Signe, Good Dog, Carl, since it has hardly any words and it's hard to be a book aunt in another language when I don't live in New York where there are probably whole stores devoted to children's books in Danish, and for Hans, a brightly colored bug stuffie, since boy clothes are much less cute and fun to peruse and give than girl clothes, except overalls, which I didn't find. And for MMZ, Goodnight Moon, just in case he doesn't have it yet.

I had to buy frozen veggies to make buddy chow before Blake could eat again, so I hopped off the bus a few stops early to go to King Soopers (and pop into Hobby Lobby, just in case) and walking the mile home was about the last thing I could accomplish vertically. So I slumped in my comfy chair, glued squares of plain white paper into rectangles of green construction paper for Christmas cards, and harrumphed the evening away.