Ginger and her cat, Sam
Yesterday I jokingly wrote that someone should take away my credit card to keep me from flying to Seattle to see Chris Cornell in concert there in October. Tonight I reached for my card to pay for my groceries and found it... missing. Having spent much of the day with Sarah, who knew of my ill-conceived plan to fly the coop for Cornell, I called her first thing to ask if she had "seen" the aforementioned card. She allegedly had not.
I really have been trying to cut back on spending lately, so I was on the phone interrogating Sarah when I realized where the card was. It had been days since I last used it; at the drive-through pharmacy. And where do they put your card when they send the product to you through the pneumatic tube? (Well, in this case they don't even have a pneumatic tube, but that's a story for another time. Picture a small monkey running from your car to the pharmacy window and back.) That's right, they drop your card in the bag with your prescription.
If you are anything like me--and here's hoping you are not, for a number of reasons--you no longer bother to read through the extensive print-outs that accompany your prescription. I have better things to read than how all my hair is likely to fall out from taking this drug, or that I may grow several extra toes if I continue to get refills for that one. As usual, I just grab the drug from the bag and toss it--warnings and all--into the trash.
I'd like to insert a bit of advice here. Some of you may have cats. I do not, but as many of you know, my Staffordshire Terrier owns one. The advice is this: If your dog simply must have her own cat, make sure that your dog knows to place all dirty litter in a separate plastic bag before disposing of this litter in your standard trash bin. This way, should you accidentally throw away your credit or debit card with the rest of the trash, you will not be forced to paw your way through composting cat shit in order to recover it.
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