I didn’t read the back of this medicine’s box until I got home. Mistake.

I got it because I’m having a sinus problem.

The print is so small I held the box up right to my nose and mumbled the words to myself.

Then I noticed a woman standing nearby in the fluorescent lighted meds aisle watching me. I fled at once.

At home, She, who has better eyes, read: “Don’t use if you suffer depression, psychiatric or emotional conditions or Parkinson’s disease.”

I’m not depressed, but I do have an “emotional condition,” which may come from taking three of these pills. I think it’s worse.

I know you won’t believe this, but for some reason, I feel so sorry about Washington and for some of the people 45 fired or just let go out of spite that I can’t sleep.

Not all of them, mind you. I never liked Michael Flynn’s looks. I don’t know if he’s guilty or innocent of the charges. I just don’t like his nose.

He has an Irish name, but that’s clearly not an Irish nose. I don’t judge people by their facial features. I just don’t like Flynn’s.

People like Sean Spicer are another reason I can’t sleep. Poor Sean. He’s probably a nice guy like my brother Kermit. Kermit was a firefighter who always wanted to be loved and appreciated, but he worked too hard at it and was never quite successful. I loved him, of course; he was my brother. You kind of have to love your brother, and he had nice facial features.

It’s the crowd that 45 so cruelly dismissed that I lose sleep over. Sometimes I lie there thinking about poor Sean.

What’s he gonna do? He’s so fragile. I’ll bet he was bullied in middle school. He wasn’t even good at reading things that had been written for him to read. It was such a sad thing to watch, like watching a toddler that needed changing.

Where will he go? He can’t have a power talk show like Chris Matthews, or do those big breaking news hours like Katy Tur. Even if he wanted to, not even Fox would hire him.

It upset me when 45 wouldn’t take him along to meet the Pope in Rome. He took everyone else, even his wife.

I’m told that Sean is a devout Catholic and really looked forward to that. I’ll bet his mother wanted to watch the news when he kissed the Pope’s ring. She was probably looking forward to that and told all of her friends in her neighborhood.

My mother did that at her local grocery store whenever a food commercial I had made was on the soaps in the afternoon.

“Did you see my son on the Folgers Coffee commercial today?”

They did, of course, and it made her so happy. Sean’s mother probably cried.

That alone will bring 45 down. You know why? “God counts a mother’s tears,” Sister Rosanna once told me. That’s true.

And poor Anthony Scaramucci. His mother counted on him being the spokesman for the president. I know Italian mothers from my old neighborhood, and they’re very proud of their sons. Daughters not as much. They love their daughters, but not like their sons.

“See my Anthony up there?” she probably said and made the sign of the cross like my friend Mateo’s mother always did.

Katie Walsh is another. She was so sweet and pure of feature, like a young bride. I can see her running through the tall corn of Iowa, her blonde tresses blowing in the wind. Is she from Iowa? I don’t know really.

I so liked Katie. I’m sure she was devoted to 45, and it must have broken her heart when she was ushered out of the West Wing with that shoe box full of her stuff. I’m sure she’ll land a good job, but I’ll bet she cried when she got into her car. I’m glad I didn’t see that. I have to Google her to see if she’s from Iowa.

Reince Priebus is another sad case. Poor Reince, after years of growing up with that name. What on Earth is he going to do with the rest of his life? No matter how important that job he had with 45, I’ll bet even when he ordered pizza he sounded like he was begging.

Hope Hicks. She’ll be okay. I’ve seen enough movies to know that a woman who looks like her will always land a good job. She’s definitely not from Iowa.

I can’t sleep. I wonder if you can take three of these pills with a little pinot?

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer.