Our Stance on Drugs in America

Tissues, wet, in front of the computer.
"Ew" I pick them up with a drier tissue.
"I'm sorry" he apologized. "I don't have a trash barrell"

Because at some environmental point in time I stopped getting trash bags at the grocery store thus no liners. Ergo the barrells go downstairs daily to be dumped, and washed.

"It's ok" I said to his rumaging back. "What are you looking for?"
"Something for my allergies." he muttered into the cabinet.
"Do we have..."
"Did you find..."
"Sudafed"

" I think it's on a lower shelf" I pointed.
He rumaged somemore.

"Down. Eat. Mommy? Ellie eat."
I picked up Ellie - binky in mouth, doggie in arms, as she thrusts her OTHER doggie, her bear, her spare binky into my arms.

Downstairs into the kitchen.
Coffeebrewing.

My husband, the mad professor, walks by ranting to himself.

"....stupid meth addicts..." rummages more in the downstairs cabinets. Gives up.
"I wouldn't care except Sudafed used to be cheap."