The Seven CVS of the Apocalypse

Have you ever gotten a wild hair and refused to let up? I had an experience like this a couple of weeks ago.  I had run out of  my makeup and needed to replenish it.  Since I work right next to a CVS, the replishment should've been easy (yeah, I wear drug store makeup, what of it?). Only that CVS no longer carries Almay. Half a block later, I was at the other CVS near my office, only to learn that they were out of the makeup in question. That was in the morning. I went to my office, naked faced and on a mission.  At lunch you will be mine, I vowed to the makeup.

After looking up the other CVS locations within several blocks of my office, it was discovered that there were four more besides the two I had already checked.  Phew! We wouldn't want the people of downtown D.C. go without their prescriptions, haircare products, and pantyhose.  My goal in sight, I set out for the first of the CVS Stores in question.  I headed down K Street to what I hoped would be the best bet (as it was the closest), 15th and K.  Even though it was a smaller store, I was hopeful, as they had appeared to have just gotten a shipment of various and sundry items.  But no Almay. I wasn't worried.  I still had three other stores to visit, and one was bound to have what I needed. 

Heading in the opposite direction, I set out for 19th and K.  Bigger than the previous store, but still lacking, I turned around and headed for the store that was at 20th and L.  It was getting hot, and I was getting frustrated, but I had my goal in mind and refused to entertain ideas that my face would remain unpainted indefinitely. I soldiered on. The store at 20th and L was huge -- and yet still sadly did not have what I needed.  They carried Almay, but were again sold out. With one more location to check and hope fading, I started to think maybe I'd alter my plan, spend my money on lunch at Chipotle instead, and become the kind of woman who doesn't wear makeup.  As I hoofed the additional block and a half to the final CVS, I imagined myself as A Woman Who Doesn't Wear Makeup. It would shave valuable minutes off of my morning, allowing for extra sleep or a healthy breakfast. Without makeup, I'd be appreciated for my inner beauty.  Yes, and I'd save money! This was starting to sound like a good plan . . . until I arrived at 20th and M and caught a glimpse of my un-made face in the window on the door. It wasn't pretty.  It was haggard and desperately in need of bronzer.

Too bad the 20th and M CVS also did not have the product I needed.  I stumbled back out into the midday heat, practically delirious from all the walking and the thought of remaining a plain Jane indefinitely.  I walked back toward 19th and L, determined to find some kind of product that would suit my needs.  I couldn't let it end this way. I wasn't going to go out this way. I altered my expectations (isn't that a metaphor for life?), and picked another product (and a lipgloss for good measure) and went to the checkout armed with a $5 coupon (because at least I was going to save some money on the deal).  Lo and behold, the universe was smiling (or at least smirking) on me that day . . . and with the coupon and another discount, the lipgloss was free!  Whatever, it sounds good, but the universe owed me that lipgloss after the Great Bronzer Relay of 2010. I grudgingly took my wares and headed back to the office.

Later that day, WH and I met up with the Gay Lawyer and his partner, the Gay Historian, for happy hour drinks at Ceiba (I highly recommend the empanadas and samosas).  I was regaling the group with my tale of woe, only to have WH inform me that, "there's a CVS right next door, you know." What? Could it be? Was there another chance to get what I really needed?  Was the universe going to provide after all?  GL and I got the same twinkle in our eye and sprinted for the door. We giggled like children as we speed walked to the final CVS of the journey -- only to be let down again.

See those blank spots?
That's where the makeup would be, if they had it in stock.
Photo courtesy of Gay Lawyer

Defeated, we returned to Ceiba to finish our cocktails. Lamenting the missing makeup, I drowned my poorly made face in a Dark and Stormy.  Fortunately, if you can't have a perfectly made face, you can instead find good friends with whom to share a cocktail (or few).  And besides, let's face it, after a few cocktails nobody looks like they've got any make up on anyway, so it all evens out in the end. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.