I'm Such a Tweaker

I found myself sneezing violently earlier (something in the air?) and my lightning-speed reflexive action was to immediately shut my nose down. Or, my nasal turbinates instantly swelled shut and I could no longer breathe out of my nose. Damn. Sniffling, blowing my nose, and speaking in my oh-so-sexy stuffy nose voice, I decided it was time to take some medicine. But gasp! We were out of pseudoephedrine. Loratadine alone would simply not do; I needed some real power to unblock these nares. I took myself to the local CVS and priced out the goods.

Here's where I get in trouble. Pseudoephedrine is not only an amazing vasoconstrictor and nasal decontgestant, but it is also an ingredient in home-made crystal meth. My great state has decided that the way to stop meth heads from buying this dangerous chemical is to limit its sales to a certain amount (6 grams or two boxes), put the stuff behind the pharmacy counter, and make law-abiding citizens show ID and sign for the drug. I'm torn about this legislation: meth is a nasty, nasty drug, with absolutely zero beneficial properties; but I hate feeling like a druggie when I go buy my allergy medicine. I'm also uncertain about how effective this legislation will be in cutting down on crystal meth (although the senator who pushed this law had very high hopes). This article on PBS.com makes it sound as though a large portion of our crystal meth comes across the border (although I'm sure the home-brewed variety is common as well.)

I'm a nervous talker and a nervous giggler. Therefore, when I go to get my CVS brand pseudoephedrine, I can't just be cool and say "yeah, I need that one, please." No, I have to start sneezing and sniffling like crazy, saying stuff like "man, I can't breathe out of my nose." Out of curiosity, I almost asked the checker how much I was allowed to buy, but I decided against it. In my Gap sweater over button-down shirt and corduroys, I'm sure I looked like your standard meth head, but I still got so damned nervous! This happens every single time, too. I start commenting on how lame it is to sign for the stuff, and how bad my allergies are. One of these days a paranoid clerk is going to call the cops on me and I'm going to have to sniffle on him to prove I don't use meth.