No, what do YOU think?

So Josh and I have been debating -- endlessly it seems -- about whether or not we should start trying to have a baby. Wow, that's just throwing it right out there isn't it?

We knew that my prescription for the pill was going to run out in March. So when I ended my last pack last week, we began dancing around the subject.

"Do YOU think I should take it another month?" I asked for the 1,465th time.

"I don't know, what do YOU think?" he replied.

Literally, we would have this conversation at least another 13 times each day for a week.
So Sunday after I got back from the mall, I informed him we had 42 minutes to make this life-altering decision before the Osco pharmacy closed for the night, therefor eliminating the ability to buy said birth control pills.

After debating the merits of drinking copious amounts of alcohol in Las Vegas at my friend Erin's pre-ception in two weeks, we decided it might be best to get the pills and only take them for two weeks and then go off them. Drinking and Sex-for-Babies (similar sounding to Oil-for-Food, but really nothing like it) all in one -- Brilliant!

So I jumped off the couch and sped over to our neighborhood Jewel Osco and waited at the counter. And looked around -- no pharmacist to be found. It's now 4:58. Down yonder in the liquor aisle, I see a white-coated man walking toward me. Fabulous. Let's get some pills.

When he came to the register, he looked at me and informed me I was cutting it very close and that he was already closing. Using my best flirty girl attitude, I informed him that my prescription refill was for BIRTH CONTROL PILLS and obviously, seeing as it was Sunday evening, I needed them NOW. Or I could not start them on time, duh.

His response was that he did not have enough time.

"You don't have enough time? All you have to do is pull the pack off the shelf and slap a sticker on it," I pointed out.

He then began to sternly lecture me, telling me that they did not, in fact, even HAVE my type of pills on hand. They had to be special ordered. Right, because the last 22 times I have come to this particular pharmacy to pick up my pills they had to be special ordered.

Whatever.

So I thanked him for his time (no, I actually just rolled my eyes and gave a sarc "thanks") and walked to the Easter candy aisle. And as I stared at the Peeps and the Malted Milk eggs, debating the merits of buying some so far before Easter, I called Josh and informed him the Osco Pharmacist had just made the decision to conceive for us.

Giddy up.

Then it hit me.

No drinking. No drinking? NO DRINKING!

Lord help me. I am going to Vegas, baby, Vegas for the very first time and I can't drink? This is insanity. I then listed all the events I would want to drink at in the coming months: several weddings, baseball games, the Final Four, Girls Night Out, Arbor Day. It's a plot against me. Who knew you couldn't even drink when you were just TRYING to get pregnant? No one tells you that in health class.

And what does the man of this relationship announce as I lament the un-fun-ness of my life unfolding before my very eyes?

"Too bad for you, because I am going to be having one fun summer."