When I was in college and I had a big exam or a paper to write, I'd go to the local library. However backed-up I was creatively or stymied by the material, I always found solace in the peace and quiet of the books and ceiling fans, away from the distractions of home.
My new creative outlet is the supermarket. It's almost as quiet, save for the occasional announcements of lost children or a pizza sale in the deli aisle. I find that I can wander, and as long as I have my hand cart and quizzical look I can stay there as long as I want. Nobody bothers me or asks, "Can I help you?" [an open-ended question if ever I've heard one] I can browse uninterrupted, alone with my thoughts, as insignificant as they may seem.
I needed aspirin. I get maybe three headaches a year, and every time I get one, I don't have any analgesic to take to alleviate the pain. What I notice when I open the package is that it's sealed as though it contained Plutonium.
There's a plastic wrap around the cap, an arrow with a groove to flip it open, then a foil seal on the bottle followed by a cotton ball to protect the pills from ... something. Child-proofing, I think they call it. A knee-jerk reaction to the Tylenol incident and a necessary (so they say) device to protect our children from the evils of aspirin and other over-the-counter pain relievers.
Meanwhile, I can open a bottle of vodka by merely twisting the cap.
Have at it kids.