The pharmacist who works in my clinic's pharmacy is a fun loving guy and will go the extra mile for his customers. Today he was out of my anti pee meds and instead of just shrugging his shoulder and telling me to wait until Thursday when he'll get more in, he called his pal at the private pharmacy to ask if he had any. The other pharamacist's name is Osama, and my poor guy was laughing so hard when Osama answered that he couldn't talk. Why was he doubled over in laughter? It might be because I told him that him that I miss getting my meds from Osama because there is something deliciously twisted about being in Israel and buying meds from a guy named Osama. He was still giggling when he got off the phone after arranging for me to go in and get a box from Osama. He said that it had never occured to him, and that he'd never think of our Osama in the same way he had before. And this guy is an Arab too. And he actually has a lower opinion of the non doctor at my clinic than I do, which is saying something as he just happens to be an Arab as well.
Of course non of my barbed remarks refer to that. My point is clear enough without being too specific. I actually told that to Osama a couple of years ago and he laughed too.
I was not laughing when I came home, however. Peg rearranged all the trash that had been in the bin all over the floor and now I get to clean it up. Why on earth can I never remember to put that bin on the bed or at least out of his reach? I'd best get on with it.
Monday, December 31, 2007
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