So, yesterday, I rang the doctors' surgery and sorted out my repeat prescription for Fluoxetine, which will be ready for me to pick up on Tuesday.
Good stuff, right?
Except that, by yesterday, I'd already run out.
I'm not usually so lax. I usually have it written in my diary a week before I'm due to run out. Call doc, rpt presc. Or something. But this month I've fucked it up and been an airhead. And, actually, not checking my diary that regularly.
Now, it's not a disaster. I'm not going to throw myself off a tall building before Tuesday. Gone are the days when I would have had to present myself to an A&E immediately in this situation. But I am going to have a fairly crappy few days.
Next month, more organization, less space cadetery.
