We all get depressed, some of us more than others. I suffer from mild depression, and when an attack comes, I head for the nearest large pharmacy. I don’t buy anything. I just roam the aisles.
I soon realize that I’m not the only one in pain. I see rows and rows of pain killers. I see that I’m not the only one with muscle aches. I see seventeen varieties of braces.
I get down about aging, but then in the drug store I spy what seem to be thousands of ways to hide wrinkles. Is there anything more poignant than a plantar wart? Yet I see they’ve almost sold out of the acid you use to burn them off.
Even the grocery aisle cheers me up, as I note four or five different brands of decaf coffee. I’m not the only nervous one, nervous about being nervous. Drink enough decaf and you won’t be awake enough to know you are depressed.
Some people read novels to learn they’re not alone. Not me: I head for Walgreen’s, though some time I do CVS or Rite-Aid.
Variety is the spice of life.
I’m Tom McBride, and that’s my Perspective.
