Would You Rather?

After 24 hours of hotel room stink and sympathy pains, I made a trip to the pharmacy. This, in itself is a victory. I woke up this morning feeling like a prisoner of this country, which is silly considering they have just changed their laws on women in the workplace. How generous. I cried a little and told Matt I'm ready to go home.
Try explaining to a group of women gathered at a cash register that your "husband" has constipation. Do they have laxatives?
"Laxatives?"
Then we have the problem of trying to explain that it's not too much, it's too little.
"Maybe better to go to the pharmacy."
"Oh, thank you."
Now I have returned with the most foul, thick paste-of-a-drink and Matt refuses to consume the mixture: "It might actually be worse than the farties."
"Drink the Movi-Col."
[time passes]
"Do you want food, honey?"
"I want you to drink the Movi-Col."
[more time]
"Uhgllghggg. It's slimy. Could I just have water instead?"
"Does the water have Movi-Col in it?"
"Dammit! Couldn't you have gotten pills?"
"They didn't have any."
"Did you ask?"
"Well...? No. But I would have if I thought of it. I asked for laxatives. They gave me Movi-Col."