When a Southern Woman Rambles... by L. Avery Brown (great reads TXT) 📕

The moral of this particular tragic tale of beauty:

Speed kills stupid people with or without makeup!
Slow down!

Seasonal allergies are the worst. Between the itchy-watery eyes, sneezing, coughing, congestion, and the other annoying things we have to deal with during the various times of the year when specific allergens cause us strife -- it can make us absolutely dread the changing of the seasons.  The following is the tale of one woman's allergy induced plight...

I was waiting to pick up a prescription at the drugstore one morning when I heard two sneezes so loud they made me and the people around me jump. We, the patrons, as well as the pharmacy technician (which is essentially a glorified cashier who can stick labels on filled prescriptions), immediately turned toward the direction of the startling sound to offer our respective gesundheits and God bless yous. Mind you, the sneeze was loud enough that I expected to see a giant of a man standing there, but to my amazement the gargantuan sound came from a rather petite woman wearing a well-tailored suit, high heels and a name tag that told the world not only who she was but also where they could find her between the hours of 9 to 5. Incidentally, she worked for the real estate agency across the street from the pharmacy.

I politely said, bless you-bless you for her two sneezes (I'm a strong believer in offering 'bless yous' in accordance to the number of sneezes produced) and I was just about to flash her my compassionate, gosh, I'm sorry your allergies bothering you smile along with the customary I feel for you nod but when she turned her head to acknowledge those of us who’d wished her sympathetic tidings, I had to force myself to not laugh out loud. Because when the woman, who was obviously suffering from a terrible allergy attack, looked in my general direction, I couldn’t help but notice that in her attempt to ease the annoying itching of her right eye, she had inadvertently rubbed away all the eye shadow from her upper lid and had also transferred the vast majority of her mascara from her lashes to the skin beneath her lower lid. 

To be honest, she looked like a walking ‘before and after’ photo. The left side of her face was neatly made up with a cheery looking pink blush on the apple of her cheek. And she had an eye that had been artfully shaded with various sparkly lavender tones as well as eyelashes that were long, thick, and black. Yes, the left side of her face was flawless. However, the other side of her face, accompanied by her bright red nose and dripping, bloodshot right eye, made her look kind of like a dumpster diving raccoon strung out on Twinkie cream licked off of tossed away wrappers and swigs of soda pop left in discarded cans. 

I glanced at the dear elderly lady in front of me (who smelled a bit like an old perfume factory) and gave her one of those oh my wide-eyed expressions as she shook her head and went *‘Mmm mmm, Lordy, Lordy. I imagine that this sweet old woman had quite a time recounting the tale of the drippy eyed, two-faced real estate agent the next time she found herself at the senior center. 

*Now where I’m from, if you’re given an ‘mmm mmm’ followed by a double ‘Lordy’ it is an expression of the utmost sympathy.* 

As for the bedraggled realty representative, she sneezed again, twice, and looked at the group of customers who were still waiting patiently in line. I’ve no doubt she knew she looked terrible; but, at that point, I don’t think she really cared because I watched as she picked up a plastic sealed package of Visine AC eye drops and tried to open it with her beautifully manicured nails right there in the foot and eye care aisle without even paying for it.

(As a brief aside, I’ve always wondered why one tends to find eye care products in the same aisle as corn and callus removers.)

Unfortunately, her attempt to get to the contents inside the box, which was truly valiant, was in vain because the plastic used by pharmaceutical manufacturers to ensure consumer safety is apparently formulated with some sort of super-polymer that can resist just about anything. But she was determined to get that solution into her eye to ease her suffering. So, she put the little box to her mouth and proceeded to gnaw at the heat-shrunk seam of the plastic until she’d ripped off a bit of the wrapper whereupon she ever so delicately spit it out of her mouth and onto the tightly woven drug store carpet at her feet. 

The frustrated real estate agent then grabbed at the small opening she’d made and tried to wedge her finger into the tiny space but couldn’t make any headway so she put the box to her mouth once more and bit at the wrapper again and again until she was able to completely remove it. With the wrapper finally removed, she grabbed the glued flap on the box that kept her from getting to the little bottle inside with the ½ fluid ounce of cooling relief. She ripped off the glued flaps and reached in to grab the eye drops that she so desperately wanted. And I can honestly say I’ve not seen a look of joy like the one she wore when her fingers grabbed the top of the bottle inside that box in quite a long time.

(At this point there was only one customer ahead of me in line, the ‘mmm mmm double Lordy’ lady, and I feared that I might not get to see how this all played out but luckily she had several items in her cart and was picking up prescriptions for her husband as well. So I knew I had at least another 3 minutes.)

With the bottle finally in her anxious hands, I felt for sure I was about to hear her unadulterated sound of extreme satisfaction that could only come thanks to the contents of that bottle. And I think she was thinking the exact same thing because a huge smile crossed her face. Unfortunately, for the drippy eyed eye drop bandit, her elation was short lived because when she pulled out the bottle, she saw another obstacle between the liquid eye solution and relief it promised to on the label. Yes, she had an additional barrier to overcome. It was the dreaded...sealed for your protection super-strong plastic shrink-wrap that covered the actual bottle top.

It was like a scene out of one of those bad black and white Saturday afternoon serials from the infancy of television. I halfway expected to hear a deep baritone voice over the public address system say, Will this madness ever end? Will the twitchy eyed gal ever get those drops to land on her ocular orbs?!

At this point, I actually thought she might just give up but she didn’t. Based on what I saw next, it was obvious she remembered the amount of trouble it took to try and be delicate with the shrink-wrapped box and didn't want to go through the same thing with the weirdly shaped bottle and cap with a protective seal that's even more impervious than the box's outer wrapper. A crazed, somewhat rabid look washed over her face. 

By now, she was fit to be tied (or put down - I swanny - Southern for swear - if she had started foaming at the mouth, I was more than prepared to grab the People magazine near me and beat her senseless with it) She wanted, and I mean really wanted those eye drops so she by-passed any attempt to be polite and went straight to using her teeth as they'd proven very effective in getting the outer wrapping off. I watched her put the bottle to her mouth and bite at the tiny plastic scored to tear easily tab that is next to impossible to pull with anything other than your teeth and yanked at the thick stuff until she’d torn enough of it away that she could get the bottle top off.

(But dread...it was my turn to pick up my prescription and I just knew I’d not get to see how the saga played itself out if I went to the counter at that exact moment. I can honestly say, I think Fate was on my side that day because just as I walked up to the counter, someone had pulled into the drive-thru pickup window and the clerk said, ‘excuse me’ then walked away. I smiled as the gospel song, O Happy Day!, played somewhere in the back of my mind.) 

I turned my attention once again to Aisle 7 all while doing the 'I'm going to look at you without making it look like I'm looking at you' thing even though I know she knew I was looking at her. It was a little scary. After all, I'd been warned about getting too close to a wounded animal. She could have gone off on me like Cujo. So, I picked up the People magazine thinking I'd either use it to save myself or I'd simply enjoy reading the story about Carrie Underwood. But instead of charging at me like a bull in Pamplona, she stopped.

What was she up to? With the drops now able to be utilized, I expected to see the anxious purveyor of real estate tilt her head back and let drop after drop of the allergy relieving liquid land on her eye but she didn’t; instead, she decided to read the directions to ensure the correct dosage. She dabbed her right eye with a tissue that she had balled up in her hand and said quite matter o’factly, “Let’s see, directions, directions....hmm, 1 to 2 drops...4 times.” And I remember thinking it was odd to see her so casually peruse the instructions after having watched her reenact what looked like a frenzied feeding scene from a hyena documentary.

I along with the three others behind me who were also 'looking at her while trying to look like they were looking at her' only we all knew we were looking at her, watched the woman finally put back her head and apply the drops to the afflicted visual orb. But apparently she’d made a split second decision to forego the directions she'd so carefully read and commenced to putting at least 4 drops in her eye, if not more. Of course, she might have figured it was all right because if the directions said a person could use 1 to 2 drops 4 times a day then surely a person could use 4 drops 2 times a day. Or maybe even 8 drops once a day. Technically, it all works out if you do the math! 

Besides, aren't those directions on over-the-counter medications there more as a suggestion than a do it wrong and you could die thing? It would be pretty silly of pharmaceutical companies to put stuff on the market that might actually kill you if you overdosed! (And yes, I'm joking! Lordy, Lordy! My Mama didn't raise a fool!)

Once