To My Left, the Demons

Is this a grudge I hold? Or is it the unwanted return of memories long-buried? Of a particular place and certain people gladly left behind over a quarter-century ago.

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Musical Earworms

I made the mistake of accompanying my husband, SilverBeard, to the drugstore where he needed to pick up some photos, a couple photo frames, and a folder. Maybe a 5-minute visit. 10 minutes if there‚Äôs a line at the photo counter (and I fervently pray to the Flying Spaghetti Monster that there is no line). I hate going to this particular store. It’s in a lousy area on a busy highway, and there’s always the feeling of imminent disaster around the place, anyway. Creepy people hanging around, drug deals covertly and overtly going down, real fun place. And then there’s the smell – what is it with drugstores? They all smell the same – a combination of pharmaceuticals, bodycare products, and stale junk food. Vile.

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