A few days ago I called up the chemist. They do home delivery. I asked for Xylocaine.
“Hmm…yes, yes, not tablets.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“No, but you will have to send this real quick, it is very urgent, I need it now.”
The guy was at my door in ten minutes. I took the packet, paid him. When I opened it I found xylocaine gel, the stuff you read sexologists tell worried questioners who complain about painful intercourse to use. “Apply to the vaginal area 20 minutes before the act,” is the sage advice.
(Digression: Do people plan these things? Like, okay, it pains, so apply at 9 PM, at 9.20 wipe it off…with what? Keep something handy…then start getting in the mood, play music…tabla? flute? sarangi? Toooiinnnnn, toooiiin. …like a long sigh…then whatever…)
What I had wanted was the antacid Xylocaine. It is a liquid, not a gel. And what surprised me is the fellow who takes his time delivering the goods was so prompt. I can well imagine what must have gone on in his mind…
And the damn thing was not even urgent, but here we just need to make it sound this way…
Now, he has an extra broad smile whenever he visits.