I arrived at work at 10am to discover that the RPh computer (PC#1)was down, which forced us to completely forget about any ideas of order we usually have. The RPh then moves to PC#2 to do her verifying, which is where us tech usually enter the prescriptions and process refills and things like that, so the techs we forced to use PC#3, which is pretty much unused unless someone is on the other 2 machines and we get a phonecall or question. Our normal workflow went completely FUBAR. It was not pretty. Toss into the mix a rather crazy Chinese woman who first complained that it was going to take too long to fill her script and then told me how wonderful I was even when it was 5 minutes late, a man with a week’s worth of anti-anxiety meds who was worried about how he had no more refills and went into great detail about how awful his detox from methadone was going, one guy who calls up ever 3 days to ask why we haven’t filled his prescription yet (even though we’ve explained to him every single time that his insurance won’t cover it and his doctor needs to supply us with a new prescription), and most of the Vicodin junkies from Pawtucket and Central Falls, and we’ve got a regular old party going on.

After work we hit Stop & Shop for some food for the rest of the week. About 1 hour and $90 later and we had a metric fuckton of meats and assorted goodies and bottled waters for the house and work. Eddie pointed out how “adult” we were with a cart full of water (and no soda) and sugar/fat-free foods, and how we saved $30 because we bought the crap that was on sale. And then he cooked up sinfully yummy cheese-filled sausages for dinner, which I ate while reading over my medical coverage info that was sent in the mail today.

A little while ago Comrade came and knocked on the door to remind us once again that tomorrow, being Friday, is garbage day. I’d like to offer a hearty “Well, no shit, and fuck you!” to the psycho Pollack upstairs, because we’re well aware of when the garbage is picked up, as demonstrated by the bags of it we leave on the curb on Friday mornings. The man is such a twat-goblin that it borders on insanity.