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2002-07-30 | 9:34 a.m.

I just did the weirdest thing. The FedEx guy came and when I signed for my package, I could hear talk radio blaring from his truck. I just blurted out, "You should listen to NPR! Talk radio will rot your brain!"

I did say it with a smile on my face, but it was really too strongly worded to qualify as well-mannered.

Instead of saying, "Back off, lady! I'll listen to what I want!" which would have been appropriate, he said, "What is it?"

"There's just not as much arguing," I said, feeling embarrassed. "I'm just playing, you can listen to whatever you want."

"No, I'll try it," he said sincerely. "What is it?"

"Eighty-eight point five," I said. I felt silly, but I really hope he does give it a try. I wonder if there is a rule that FedEx drivers can't listen to music on the road? He was a young (and gorgeous, oh my God) African-American man and the loud, abrasive talking seemed incongruous with his ineffable smoothness and geniality. NPR would be much better, I'm convinced.

The package he was bringing was my generic medication from the mail-order pharmacy. After being off the stuff for the better part of a fortnight, I'm hesitant to start it up again. And I really must, must, must find a new doctor. I also have to call the insurance company and convince them I'm not a male. I guess pregnancy doesn't count for as much as it used to.

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