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My Mother My Roommate Part 4: The Hazards of Drinking Alone



Got home after a long day of work and poured myself a Jack and Coke. I was two stiff drinks in when nature called. 

Yes, I was quite aware that I was in the midst of a visit from my monthly “friend” when I wandered into my master bath. I can depend on finding stashed tampons and maxi pads in every bathroom of my house; three total. For extra emergencies, I have pads and tampons stashed in suitcases, work bags, kitchen drawers, my circus bag and even the glove compartment of my car. Additionally, somewhere in the house, I knew there was an ill purchased Diva cup I got to "save the environment." At this moment, last night, I had completely run out of sanitary products everywhere but the red sea dripping down my leg didn't care. I balled up some toilet paper, put on my ugliest pair of granny panties, called for Camilla (my English bulldog who hates walks but is forced on them) and started walking to my local drug store about a mile up the road. 

STOP! The temperature was a below freezing temp of -17 degrees making it impossible for me to walk without becoming a frozen menstruating Popsicle. Also, impossible for me to drive two drinks in. What’s a girl to do?

I opened up my master bathroom vanity in search of a tiny hot pink draw string bag which contained a squishy silicon vessel, my Diva cup.

I had only tried this device on two occasions; both of which left my nether regions somewhere between uncomfortable and traumatized. Inserting a Diva cup is like shoving a shot glass opening first through a garden hose, but I was desperate. I searched around in the large, unorganized, bathroom vanity drawer I discovered several stray bobbin pins, broken nail clippers and an ear cleaning kit, no Diva cup. I stumbled into the bedroom to slip on my Uggs and discovered the little hot pink bag which held the Diva cup, but there wasn’t a cup inside.

Tired, tipsy and cramping, I sucked up my pride and knocked on my neighbor’s door.  She’s a fellow divorcé and a recent empty-nester. Making a fist, I tapped on the door firmly while I tried to shield the sub-arctic wind with with my other hand. No answer. I looked around clumsily for other neighbors. Marge and Bill live next to the divorcé. Marge is eighty. Probably not going to have Kotex products laying around.

A light bulb went off in my head and I ran back inside. Did I mention that I forgot to close my front door and Camilla ran out in the snow, buried herself and proceeded to chew on something she brought out of the house? Well, there was also that. I ignored Camilla and ran to my hallway bathroom, frantically opened the counter under the sink and ripped open the last box of Depend diapers left from my mother’s stash. 

Ah, the feeling of security. I sat on the edge of the bed and removed my sandals only to hear the yip of Camilla outside in the freezing snow. I opened the front door and looked around the corner. She had a mouth full of snow and was pushing at something under the car. I bent over to examine what she had been chewing on. It was my Diva cup. Finally it had a purpose.

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