I’m not sure who gave me my first one—probably that guy who briefly wooed me by bringing his laundry over to my old apartment complex on Saturday nights when there was “no line for the machines” (Okay, so sometimes the people giving the cards are completely soulless). In any event, a few months ago, my local supermarket offered me a very generous gift card for each existing prescription I transferred to their new in-store pharmacy. Three transfers later (What can I say? I have bad gums and itchy skin), I had enough cards stockpiled to keep me in peanut butter and pate for a year … or at least get me through one very “transition”-packed June.
Best of all, I’ve made a wonderful new friend—the pharmacist. I don’t know her name, but every time she sees me in the supermarket now, she waves. Why just the other day, she practically blinded me way over in Frozen Foods, flashing that giant new rock on her ring finger.
Sigh. I should be thrilled for her, but … it’s still June and I just know she’s going to invite me to her wedding.

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