Bowing to Defeat

Two nights ago, my allergy medicine made its first attempt at escape. Last night it tried again. Tonight, it finally succeeded.

This is the story of how my significant other – I'll call him Squeeze – found me on the bathroom floor with my pajama-clad bottom waving in the air, laughing myself silly.

I don't know why, after so many years of taking pills without drama of any sort, this has suddenly become a problem. I have a routine that works.

I suppose that sentence should be in the past tense now. Let me start over.

I have a ritual for taking my pills:

• I reach into the medicine cabinet and grab my bottle of allergy pills. I shake one out and hold it in one hand while I replace the lid. The hand holding the pill is also manipulating the lid. Keep this in mind.
  
• While still holding the allergy pill, I open the bottle of multivitamins and separate one from the herd into the hand that is still holding the allergy pill.
• I repeat the procedure with flax seed oil capsules.
  

I like to gather my pills from smallest to largest. It feels wrong to collect them in the other direction.

What? Haven't you ever developed a slightly compulsive habit?

Once all of my pills are in my hand, I take a sip of water and swallow them all at the same time. I am then free to move on to my nasal sprays.

I find comfort in my routine. It works for me. The repetition is almost soothing, part of how I wind down before bed.

At least, it had been.

When I went to put the lid back on the flax capsules two nights ago, my allergy pill slid out of my hand and into the over-sized bottle of capsules that was still nearly full. I sighed and set the two loyal pills on the counter.

I glared at the huge bottle full of dark horse-pill sized capsules. The tiny allergy pill was nowhere to be seen. There was no way I was going to dump everything out and sort through it.

"Ha!" I thought. "I'll just turn the bottle upside-down and shake it until the allergy pill makes its way to the cap." I envisioned picking the little bugger out of the cap and heading off to my reward of a sound night of sleep.

I screwed the lid back on and proceeded to shake, jolt, and wiggle the bottle. In a very short time I was rewarded with the plink of the harder allergy pill striking the cap. Victory!

I carefully unscrewed the cap, bottle still inverted, and peered at what was sitting there. Sure enough, my wayward pill was there, lurking amid giants. I tipped the bottle over, letting as many capsules as possible slide back in, and proceeded to remove the remaining pile back into the bottle until I had cleared enough space to get my finger on the escapee, at which time I decided to tip the remaining capsules back into their jar.

Not such a great idea. The pill shot out from under my finger and back into the bottle. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I actually uttered a Homer Simpson noise.

I was not going to admit defeat. Perhaps I had been a little careless, a little foolish in thinking I could keep the pill pressed against the cap. After all, it had already escaped once.

With renewed determination I took the cap out of the action. I repeated my earlier performance with my hand over the mouth of the bottle, no doubt looking like I was making the world's worst martini. Eventually the pill worked its way into the palm of my hand. This time I kept it.

Last night my allergy pill escaped to the counter top. I guess since the bottle of capsules had proved ineffective camouflage it decided to try an alternate escape route. I am proud to say that I tracked it down with no complications.

Tonight though, was an entirely different story.

This time the pill made it off the counter and into the narrow space between the vanity and the shower stall. It's a very small area that is impossible to reach with the human hand. The floor there is slowly being overtaken by the dust bunny alliance, which attempted unsuccessfully to provide cover for my errant pill.

I admit that going after the pill with a broom would have been a much more rational choice than trying to scoot it out with the tip of a comb, but in the heat of the moment I could only think to grab the nearest tool that would fit.

It took me several minutes of work down on the ground on my elbows and knees, but I managed to maneuver the pill almost within reach of my fingers. One more tap should have brought it in range. It was nestled right up against the tiles of the shower stall. If I hit it... just... so...

I stared at the blank stretch of tile running from my nose to the far wall.

Wait just a minute. I didn't tap it that hard! I pulled up the bath mat – no pill. I searched on the carpet. Nothing. I looked back into the crevice. Nope. That sucker had disappeared.

I stared in shock for a moment. After all, there was no way that a pill, no matter how wily, could have actually vanished. Was there?

No, no! I shook my head, trying to get a grip. I searched the dust bunny canyon again, scrutinizing every inch.

Aha! One of the vertical tiles did not have grout sealing it to the floor. I had located the escape route, but my happiness at this discovery was very short lived as there was no hope for recovery beyond that point.

I nodded my head, conceding defeat. The pill had made good its escape. I vowed that its brothers would not be so lucky.

I caught myself before I started shaking my fist and vowing vengeance. How did I become the evil villain to my medication? I'm supposed to be the good guy! I burst out laughing, head on the floor, ass in the air.

“Um, should I ask?” Squeeze stepped into the room. I'll tell him tomorrow.