Last night was our fantastic hunt for the 24-hour pharmacy.
It turns out there's no such thing in Minneapolis. What kind of wack-hole city is this?
We found the golden Vicodin and sacred Valtrex at our fourth (or was it fifth) pharmacy in a suburb of Minneapolis.
Miles has spent the day hopped up on Vicodin. He can't tell the difference between "yes" and "no" and it's pretty fun to take him places.
I steered him about the grocery store and resisted my urge to yell out, "MY BOYFRIEND'S CONTAGIOUS WITH THE SHINGLES".
He's going to make it. I just know it.
