Hanna and I are both in the throes of winter colds much like Marie Anelle described yesterday (though I got through mine in a week, knock on wood). And last night, when Hanna went for the cough medicine in order to sleep, we discovered our bottle of syrup had experience, like, two years ago. So I volunteered — as the less-ill of the pair — to run down to the CVS near us and buy a new bottle. I threw on my coat and boots over the pajamas, pocketed my debit card and keys, and left the apartment. In the store I found what I was looking for and made my way to the self check-out machine. So far so good.
Well, I realize I’m out of the loop on this kinda shit, because I just don’t by cough syrup all that often … but apparently you need to be over eighteen to buy cough syrup now? Because the woman at the checkout asked for my license like I was buying beer or something. Luckily I had it, because I always take my ID when I’m going to pay with a card (not that anyone ever checks, but hey). So it’s not like my evening was particularly inconvenienced by the experience?
But the thing is: what if you weren’t eighteen and you needed cough syrup? It’s not like every kid below the age of eighteen lives with their parents. And it’s not like parents never go on overnight trips or vacations, leaving their teenagers alone for a few days. Somewhere out there, I thought walking home, there are teenagers who are going without sleep because people are freaked out about over-the-counter drug abuse.