I hate going to the pharmacy. It's a big time killer. And no doubt everytime I go I end up behind folks who really needs a lot of customer service and slow down the line. You know the kind. They don't have refills. They don't have a prescription. They have 50 refills but 3 aren't ready yet. They phoned in their refill but the computer has no record of it. They think they have refills remaining, but the computer says they don't. They need a refill but their doctor is out of the office and they need someone else to authorize it. That's the kind. You've been there.
This happened again today. Normally, I get my asthma meds via mail as much as possible. But this time, something changed so that I could not get it refilled via mail. I had to have a consultation with the pharmacist. You know what for? You want to know what for? The propellant in the canister changed, and it tends to clog more often. So the pharmacist said that I had to wash my inhaler more frequently. "At least once a week, Muck." That's it, and he handed me the sack-o-drugs and wished me a nice day.
Time down the drain? 40 minutes. I drove there in my sports car burning fossil fuels, thus causing an average 2.3 degree rise in the planet's temperature today. And also contributing to smog, which worsens asthma for untold numbers in the county.
That's it. Vent over.