My mom took epic amounts of pills. A few here, a few there, and sometimes great handfuls at once. Empty pill bottles rolled across the floor like tumbleweeds. Little orange bottles with little white lids and little white labels hid in every space of the house.
When she took her heaping handfuls of pills, she left reality behind. She spoke gibberish while stumbling around the house like a drunk three year old. She put food on the stove and forgot about it. She swallowed a quarter. She spoke to things only she could see. She got lost in her own house. When she came to the next day, she would laugh and laugh as my brother and I recounted the tales of her drugged up antics. She was a barrel of laughs, my mom.