Duane Weird

I'm having a bad case of the Sunday blues. So far, there's no cure except for a 5.1-oz package of Peanut Butter M&Ms, of which I've devoured half. I actually might stop eating them, though, which kind of makes me a wuss considering in high school I could plow through a pint of ice cream and half a one-pound bag of these babies in the time it took me to watch The Breakfast Club (for the 26th time). Dear God, I was sad in high school. Um, and now, considering the fact I'm drowning my sorrows in candy-coated processed chocolate.

To cheer myself up and remind myself that I should be grateful for the things I have, I checked my bank account online. I found two charges, side by side, both to Duane Reade, for $14.87. I was practically in mid-stride to my cell phone so I could call my bank and get them to remove the charge, but I looked closer: The charges were on two separate days, to two separate Duane Reades. I thought back to a few days ago. Then I pulled a reciept out of my trash can: Yep, $14.87 for my trip to the DR on Saturday, and I know I spent about that much on Wednesday. I had unknowingly bought exactly the same monetary amount of goods three days apart. That is an amazing coincidence.

So, kids, in Newbieland, $14.87 will buy you either:

Package A:
1 box of tampons
1 pack of birth-control pills (for my skin, of course)

Package B:
3 greeting cards (two birthday, one I'm-sorry-you-have-cancer-but-let-me-know-if-you-need anything-even-though-you-live-20-hours-away)
2 manila bubble envelopes for mailing birthday gifts
1 six-pack of Diet Coke

Scintillating, I know. *sigh* Where are those Peanut Butter M&Ms?