I considered taking a picture of my bedroom. I now, after months and months of wanting to go with a spa-themed room, have made some changes. As of today I have new sheets, a new blanket, a new down comforter, and new curtains. Months ago we took the curtains down in the den with the intent of putting them up in the bedroom when we were ready. I've endured many, many evenings of wearing a baseball cap in the den because the setting sun in the window behind the computer was blinding. (It would have made a lot more sense to have left the curtains in the den until we were ready to move them to the bedroom, but I wasn't thinking.)
I could have taken pictures of all the Christmas presents we got wrapped today, or the roses we finally pruned and hauled to the trashcan, the organizing we did, or our belated tree-trimming Mexican feast we're finally getting to have tonight. But one shocking sight took priority over the other potential pictures.
In my continuation of the FlyLady way, I worked on my linen closet today. It has been pretty clean and neat all along, but I've been running out of room for one thing in particular.
Used needles.
I use needles for my methotrexate and I have pre-filled syringes of my Enbrel that I put in those red sharps containers when I'm finished. But drugstores around here won't take the full containers, the drug company that sent them to me won't take them, and doctors and hospitals won't take them. So they sit, full, in my linen closet. Mostly full of the big Enbrel shots.
Today I took the Enbrel out of the containers to make room for the other smaller, more dangerous syringes. When I gathered them up it hit me.
This is what $13,000 looks like. Drug companies should be embarrassed.
