On Thursday, he called me from his car.
"Hey, sweetie. I left work early and am going to a walk-in clinic. I'll see how long it takes for me to see a doctor and then we can meet for dinner somewhere,"
"Okay," I said, at my desk taking the call.
Roughly twenty minutes later, he called me to say that he was done seeing the doctor and got a prescription for cough medicine. Wow, that was fast! We met at the Afghani restaurant again, but for dinner.
My order was better in that I didn't get dairy dressing on my salad. However, my guy didn't get any, either. I also got rice even though I never ordered it.
We sat down and started eating. My guy was dopey.
"It's rush hour right now. It's Rush Limbaugh hour... haha," he said.
"Are you okay?" I asked him.
"Sure, I'm doing the Rush Lambada," he said, moving his arms around as if he were dancing.
My guy doesn't dance unless he is high on something. He's a sweet, cheerful dopey guy when he is.
"How much over-the-counter cough medicine did you have today?" I asked him.
"I have this much left of the bottle," he said, showing me less than an inch with his fingers.
"Wow, that's a ton," I noted.
"Yes. I needed to suppress my cough. I ended up chugging it down," he admitted.
Luckily, we were at the restaurant for two hours and he had cut off his cough syrup-chugging for two hours before we met. It was wearing off by the time we left.
"You'll be okay?" I asked him.
"Yes, I'm doing much better now," he said, squeezing my hand.
We both learned that you can indeed get high on cough syrup. I recommend that you don't!
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