I'm such a go-getter.
How else would you explain my inability to choose staying in bed/lounging around while watching my stories, drinking coffee and eating bonbons all day long over going out in the middle of a rainstorm to get my quarterly STD test (although they're collectively referred to as STI's now by people in the know).
If you've been reading the blog with any frequency over the course of the summer you've likely noticed a recurring theme: boozing and somewhat questionable late night activities, hence the need for an STD test. Don't get me wrong, I've been totally safe but it's better to be safe than sorry.
I've been known to do some stupid things under the influence of alcohol (really now, who hasn't?) but I've learned to be responsible about the fallout from the less-than-stellar quality of my alcohol-induced decision making skills. There's a fine line between fun irresponsible '"No, it's totally cool to stay out all night at the peeler's when you have to get up for work at 7am. Let's do shots!", and stupid irresponsible - the events surrounding Canada Day last year.
When it started raining, I seriously considered just putting off my STD test, because I hate the rain/moisture. But the rain stopped briefly, so I eventually got off my ass, showered, broke my toe on someone's haphazardly strewn furniture (ahem, TC) and trotted off to the train station clad in thin bermuda shorts and a polo (thank God I had the sense to wear shoes, although they were my slipons, which seem to absorb, rather than repel, water), trusty hood-free sweater slung casually under my arm. Luckily, my STD testing clinic of choice is located within a half-block of the train station (there may even be an underground tunnel, though I've yet to suss that out.
So I'm sitting in the waiting room filling out the requisite info and stuff and waiting for my name to be called whilst exchanging knowing sidelong glances with the other 3 girls in the waiting room; to this day, I have never seen any men in this waiting room, unless they were picking up their girlfriends. We had all managed to sit the perfect distance from each other thus allowing others to be able to sit without being too close to anyone else - because let's face it, it's awkward enough already without being forced to engage in idle chit chat with strangers while we wait to be tested for various dieseases.
A head peeks around the corner [Gingerbread]?
I quickly packed up my magazine, I brought my own so that I wouldn't have to go over to the communal table and make eye contact with the other waiting room denizens, and followed the nurse.
Then the Q&A period began. When was your last period? Are you regular? Birth control? etc. Questions were answered, jokes were cracked, it was a thoroughly pleasant experience, then I needed to get my blood work done and as the nurse struggles to find a vein she asks me if I had had anything to drink that morning.
"I don't mean alcohol, I mean other fluids, like water, juice..."
"Yeah, I had iced tea and some water this morning" which made me wonder about the regular clientele at this clinic.
She eventually found a vein - side note: I'd probably be a pretty shitty candidate for IV drug use, and she told me to call back in 2 weeks time to get my results.
Which means that in roughly two weeks we'll have a drinking extravanganza toasting my STD-free status.