Vitamins, RIP

I can't do it anymore.
On the last day of my four day scare and rest period, Pete asked me if I had taken my vitamins.
The long pause that followed pretty much said it all.
He did not need the chagrined, tiny "no" that followed. I could hear him shaking them out of the glass jar in which they reside, plotting their nefarious and nauseating ways.
"You had better be bringing me orange juice with those!" I warned.
He did.

I smelled the first one and gagged before I even got it near my mouth. I choked down three, almost brought the first back up, and realized that I was starting to associate orange juice with the vitamins, and that the orange juice itself was going to start making me ill. I can't have that. (This happens to me in the spring with enzyme cleaners and cat pee, but that's a story for the first days after we open the windows in Spring. It's related. Trust me.)

Christine came over in the evening while Pete was on a shoot, and she brought me fried chicken because she cares. We watched "Friends" reruns and knitted and complained about selfish people. It was glorious because we are both, of course, beyond reproach. I eventually said that I had to take my last three vitamins, while pulling a grotesque face, and she looked up her vitamin company to see what they had in prenatals.

Glory Be, they have a liquid form that you take once a day, one ounce. It has to be better, even if it is "Tropical Flavored" (Is that sand and saltwater? Suntan lotion and coconut?) Then, she stopped at the co-op on her way home to check for it, and they said they could order it for me. I am so on that.

In the meantime, it's a sub lingual B complex that gives me all the Folic Acid I need plus some Emergen-C, and that's going to have to do it. I need to enjoy my orange juice without pause. And I don't need more reasons to almost vomit.