I had just been discharged earlier that day and absentmindedly forgotten my perineal cleansing bottle. After going to two pharmacies and a medical supply store, Rob dropped me off at the hospital to get another one.
Me: don't cry, don't cry (as Rob drives up with the pizzas and Grace in the car)
Rob: "What's the matter???"
Me: "THE NURSE WOULDN'T GIVE ME ONE!" sob sob sob...
Rob: "Why not?"
Me: big sigh, trying to collect my overreactive self, "She said couldn't give me one after I had been discharged already. She said it was just a ketchup bottle, but it's not, IT'S NOT A KETCHUP BOTTLE!" sob sob sob...
Rob: gives me a sympathetic glance
Me: wiping my eyes, "Ugh, I'm sorry, I feel ridiculous right now, I have no idea why I'm crying about this. I'm ok now."
Rob: more of the sympathetic glance, gently pats me on the leg.
Me: "I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH! IT CLEANS ME SO GOOD!" sob sob sob...
Grace: starts trying to cry in response to my crying
Rob: laughs, "I'm sorry I'm laughing, but this is so ridiculous and funny."
Me: sniffle, sniffle, "I'm not mad about you laughing, I'm just obviously not feeling like myself right now. Did you happen to pick up my Cymbalta prescription from the pharmacy?"
Rob: "YES."
It's not a ketchup bottle, bitch.
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