How people without kids spend Halloween
James started the afternoon with a trip to the doctor for an annual check-up, where he narrowly escaped a prostate exam after explaining to the nurse that he wasn't there for quite such a comprehensive physical. "Yeah," she said. "We don't usually do them on guys under 40."
I joined him at the hospital to keep him company while he waited to get blood work done. He was in and out in a few minutes, but then we waited for nearly an hour for someone to call him for another test, only to find out that the young, cleavage-showing Cleopatra (complete with headdress) hadn't ordered it.
By the time we were done at the hospital, James was starving, having just fasted for over 12 hours for the blood work. I told him we could go wherever he wanted to eat. We made our way to Bob Evans, where we were at the front-end of the Early Bird crowd. We fit right in with our beef tips and noodles, pot roast sandwich, and coleslaw.
Next we drove across the street to Rite Aid so James could drop off a prescription and I could get a brace for my wrist, which I'd somehow hurt while taking pillow cases off of pillows and then chasing after the cat. (I'm lucky it's just a sprain. Bones get brittle as we age.) While at the pharmacy, I decided to pick up some Preparation-H Medicated Wipes, since I'd noticed earlier in the day that we were running low.
James and I lurked around Rite Aid, waiting for his prescription to be filled. While perusing the wide array of dental floss currently on the market, I turned to him and said, "We've really had a geriatric Halloween."
"Maybe when we get home you can rub some BENGAY on me," he said.
Trick or treat, everybody. Trick or treat.