I went to the neighborhood drugstore. The one that's locally owned and has a little gift shop in the back. So while you're waiting on your meds, you can look at overpriced Trapp candles and embroidered baby bibs and hand-painted trays that you can't actually carry stuff on - it's all very cute, but they have such fantastic customer service that my meds are always ready in 10 minutes or less, so I don't even get the chance to have the conversation in my head about whether or not I should buy that cute little thingy I like. That internal debate usually takes at least twenty minutes, and it's the reason I don't go shopping for clothes. It's so frustrating to find something I like, have it fit my monkey arms, then walk around browsing, trying to justify spending the money on clothes that will most likely end up with clorox or paint spots on it, and then end up hanging it all back on the rack. Damn waste of time, then I end up pissed instead of relaxed. But at least my husband doesn't have to deal with a shopoholic. No comfort shopping for me.
Give me a beach and a book, and I'm a happy girl. I love the beach. And kayaking. But my kayak got stolen. Thieves are a-holes.
(I'm ADD. Have you noticed? And I'm even more ADD when I'm pregnant, because babies suck your brains out.)
So, I go into the drugstore and the perky cashier offers to help. I was about to say no, but she looked bored out of her mind and eager to help for something to do. That's the manager's secret to great customer service: there are always six people working, but rarely more than two customers at a time. So I simply say, "Um, pregnancy test?"
And she walks me right on over, says all the brands are equally good, and picks up the "Good Neighbor Pharmacy" brand and takes it to the register. She rings it up, asks if there is anything else (no stick candy this time), and says it's $4.95.
"What? It was just four and a half dollars?" Which means I still have money for a movie ticket. Magic Mike, here I come!
But, yeah, the generic brand was on half-price sale, even though it was already half the price of the EPT. Sweet.
So I went home & peed on it. I didn't read the instructions, because, let's face it, I've done this way too many times in my life.
Then I waited. LONGEST. TWO. MINUTES. EVER. Every time.
And a minus appeared. Not a plus.
I must have done it wrong. So I pulled out the instructions and actually read them, but I did do it right. The little test stripe appeared in the other window proving I had done it right.
It says it's a negatory on the baby-growing.
So now I have no idea what is going on inside me.