Rogue sharps disposal

So I went to the doctor today. Bleh. My health is seriously the most expensive thing in my life, but as every sixty-year-old knows, "If you don't have your health..." I figure I'm just getting a huge head start on the rest of you. Ha! You all will be coming to me for wisdom in about twenty years, or not. It's not like I'm a guru or anything. We all know about the jaw clicking, right?

In the exam room is a big sharps disposal box on the wall, and here I've been walking around with them in my bag (my needles). Score. It's like if I were trying not to throw away batteries, and carried them with me everywhere in my bag, and then by happenstance my doctor had a battery recycling dispensary. It's that awesome (wow, that was a terrible metaphor).

At the train station yesterday, a woman had the audacity to throw away a plastic water bottle in the trash can-in front of me! I actually thought, "Did she seriously just do that? Haven't we shamed people into not doing that anymore?"

So the flu shot that I got at the doctor (unexpectedly!) has now made me sick like a semi-small child, like a teenager-that sounds about right. No, that's too young. Whatever. I'm just myself, but sick. Being sick makes me cranky, and tired, and scared that I won't get all of the things done that need to get done tomorrow.