Yes, I Do Inhale

I'm my own worst enemy. After months of making do without any inhaler and several months before that of making do with nearly empty ones past their expiration dates, I finally went through the laborious process of getting my physician to call in a prescription for a new one. And this time I insisted even more strenuously that they give me refills instead of making me call in -- G-d knows why -- every time I run out. I mean, the last thing I need to be doing is spending an hour dealing with surly, underpaid HMO workers, right? When I picked up the beast at Walgreen's yesterday evening, I was delighted to find that I not only have refills but unlimited refills for a whole year. Now I won't get into the destructive practice of not using the inhaler even though it would help because I'm conserving it for when I really need help. At any rate, I used it liberally last night, four puffs on the way home and four more before bed, and slept way better than I have since the tail end of the monsoon. I guess I just need to admit that I now live in Tucson, where the months between the end of the summer wetness and the start of the winter wetness -- assuming it comes at all -- are a time when I need what our onetime pre-schooler referred to as "a little extra help." Weakness? Perhaps. But I think I'd rather be weak and focused than strong and insomniac. The last few weeks of cold nights have been especially rough on me, since I have a terrible time with the particulate matter that comes out of our desert-minded neighbors' chimneys. Today, though, I'm like a new man. I might even ask someone to ask me to, you know. . .