I start things, I don’t always finish them. At least in a timely manner. I have a lot of drafts in my WordPress folder. The way I work is, I get an idea, usually a sentence or a title, or I look at one of my photos and it spurs something. But, the two things — a few words and an image — always go together in my mind. That’s how I roll. Often I get several sentences down, maybe even a paragraph or two, before I leave it. That way I have something to pick up on when I come back.
You can imagine my confusion when I opened this draft and found the title with this particular photo and nothing else. Not one word. What does Vicodin have to do with a placid scene of two guys fishing from kayaks in a cove on Cape Cod? What WAS I thinking when I dropped this here? Anyone?
And before you ask, no I wasn’t on Vicodin when I began the piece. That was the point of the title. I do remember that. Because I had tried to have a prescription for it filled, along with an antibiotic after a grueling oral surgery last October. And an older woman who reminded me of my high school Math teacher, Mrs. Burns (a woman so terrifying that the French teacher across the hall once put a sign on his door that read: First Aid for Lethal Burns) looked at my prescriptions and then told me all the reasons why the Vicodin scrip couldn’t be filled. Something to do with changes in dosage — of the acetaminophen, not even the narcotic part of it — and my oral surgeon should have known that. No, I couldn’t just have his office call it in because it was a Class 3 drug, I would have to go back to the office, a 70-minute roundtrip drive away, and have the doctor write a new prescription. And my mouth was swollen and starting to hurt, and I was thinking, to hell with the Vicodin. Which completely makes sense now that I’ve explained it to you doesn’t it?
Except for the photograph.
Your guess is as good as mine. I welcome your suggestions.