Come On, Card Writers!

I went to urgent care today. There’s a weird pressure behind my left eye. The provider diagnosed a sinus infection, prescribed an antibiotic, and directed me to up my allergy medicine game.

At Target, I dropped off the prescription at the pharmacy counter. The store was almost empty, and it was raining outside, so I decided I should walk briskly around the edges of the store to get some steps while I waited. I managed all of one lap. Four weeks out from being cleared to work after Covid, and I still get tired so easily. It stinks.

There’s nowhere to sit down in Target these days. I thought about heading back to the car, but because my eye was feeling funny, Ed had driven me. At that moment, he was on a work call in the parking lot, and I didn’t want to interrupt him unnecessarily. It also seemed silly to trek out to the car in the rain only to have trek back in to the pharmacy in a few minutes.

I stood by the vitamins, trying to catch my breath. I wondered if there was anything I could legitimately shop for.

My position was eliminated at the end of last school year. I managed to find something at a technical college, but it’s part time. We’re fine–luckier than a lot of people, I know–but I didn’t feel like browsing for lipstick or dish towels or colored pencils that I should not buy.

Ed’s birthday is in a few weeks, and I decided it would be reasonable to purchase a card. I liked the third one I picked up, but when I flipped it over, the price was $7.49. It was just a card, a little big maybe, but it didn’t light up or sing or dance or anything.

I picked up another card and flipped it over. It was $3.79.

Unfortunately, that card was flatulence-themed.

I picked up another. “You’re a great Dad,” it read.

Sadly, that’s not applicable.

Another. “From the moment first I saw you, I knew you were the one for me.”

I thought about when I met my husband. It was a July afternoon in North Carolina, and he had just come in from a run. Sweat was pouring off him in rivers. I was trying to negotiate move-in terms for the upstairs room with his housemate, and Ed slammed down his water bottle to decree, “Absolutely not!”

So, another card. It had bunnies and rhymed, and said something about my nagging him about leaving his socks on the floor. I’m the more careless one in our marriage, but also, really? “Come on card writers,” I thought. “You can do better.”

I looked at my watch. It was time to pick up the prescription. I decided I’d rather pay a few extra bucks to have a card I liked, and to not have to think about it later. I grabbed one of the $7.49 cards. It was smudged. I returned it the rack and picked up the one behind it. Somehow, it was blank inside. I took another. It was unsmudged and not blank.

But there were no envelopes. I found another card that appeared to be the same size, and filched its envelope, but the card I wanted wouldn’t fit. I tried two more. The expensive card was just a fraction of an inch too long.

“Good gravy!” I said, possibly out loud. Maybe I could have put the card in a half-size manila envelope–I do have a stack in my desk–but there was no way in the universe that I was going to walk out of that store with a $7.49 card that had no envelope.

4 thoughts on “Come On, Card Writers!

  1. I agree that the card-writers need to up their game! Maybe that can be a future fun outlet for you? I would love to write sassy cards that tell people what I’m thinking but not share who it’s from. 🙂


  2. COME ON WRITERSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is awesome and I felt the entire experience shopping for cards! Your individual descriptions of each card and how they didn’t apply brought me into your life and gave me snapshots to see you at different parts of life. I love collecting cards, sending them and receiving them…and really enjoyed this post ❤


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