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Note to self: Buy lottery ticket

Okay, still more proof that this is the February that does not suck:

Nurse: So how many vials of Follistim do you still have?
Julie: Nine.
Nurse: Okay, hold on a minute... [Nurse puts Julie on hold. Julie sings along with the Muzak, appreciating the rich irony of hearing Elvis Costello's "Radio, Radio" as performed by 1000 Strings]
Julie: ...And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools tryin' to anesthetize the way that you feel...
Nurse: Um, Julie?
Julie: [Clears throat] Yup!
Nurse: I just looked in the closet — we have ten amps of Follistim that will expire in April. You're welcome to have it.
Julie: Thanks! Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Oh, boy! [Remembers self, tries to act vaguely adult] I'd be happy to pay for it.
Nurse: No need. It would only go to waste otherwise.
Julie: [Vigorous hula of triumph] Great. Thanks! Now could you put Elvis back on, please? I need to have a word with him about The Juliet Letters.

The free amps won't be entirely sufficient. I'll need to order more at some point in the cycle. So what? At the moment I feel like the universe is smiling on me for at least these few brief days of the shortest month of the year.

Now if I know what's good for me I'll enter the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes, buy a Powerball ticket, audition for American Idol (flaming batons, check; spangled unitard, check), and hit Paul up for some one-sided oral sex. I'm feeling that lucky.