To whom it may concern:
Thank you for producing that blue box of make-me-feel-better goodness. Every April, I approach my pharamcist with ID in hand, salivating over the pseudophedrine induced relief that is to come. My throat hurts, my eyes itch and I sneeze non-stop. Yet, one little pill and a glass of water and the fog begins to lift. And, while I'm a bit of a space cadet who can't really see past the layers of glossiness that being narced up comes with, it's okay because I'm no longer miserable.
Happy to be clear,