Over on Ravelry (are you there yet? 350K other knitters & crocheters are!), amidst a discussion about ZOMGSWINEFLU, I mentioned that I have a sinus infection of some kind. Thanks to tweakers and crackerheads (as my mother calls them), I’ve been suffering for five days at the mercy of inflamed sinuses and snot the amounts of which I haven’t had come out of my face in years.
Why is my suffering the fault of tweakers? In 2006, the Oregon legislature decided to make pseudoephedrine – the only medication that works for my particular nasties – prescription-only. They did this in an attempt to stem the tide of the methamphetamine epidemic. Now, it didn’t work, but it made people feel like the legislature was doing something. Who cares if anything actually gets done, it’s the appearance that matters, right?
As I am uninsured, I do not have a doctor. And without a doctor, I can’t get prescriptions. And without a prescription I can’t get a fucking blister pack of sudafed because some assholes decided to use it (along with antifreeze & lye, which you can still buy in the store) to make drugs. Assholes.
So I mention this on Ravelry and a very nice woman offers to mail me some from Boston. I decline, because that would probably fall under interstate drug trafficking. It is not, however, illegal to hand someone a box of generic pseudoephedrine hydrochloride tablets that you purchased over the counter legally in another state. And that is what we did.
This woman I’d never met before, simply by virtue of being a fellow knitter, invited me to her stitch & bitch group and we made the tradeoff over wonderful conversation and sock yarn.
I love knitters. Almost as much as I love breathing.
Too bad I woke up with Llamaface’s alarm at 5:15 a.m. and haven’t been back to sleep since, and because of the sudafed I can’t drink coffee.
This is going to be a long day.