We'll pick you up...LATE!

I worked last night, it was boring. However, I started having a scratchy throat Saturday night and just chalked it up to allergies. Seasonal changes, pollen, mold, etc. It happens.

Last night, I spent the evening sneezing and blowing my nose on tissue that was roughly the equivalent to sandpaper. By morning, my nose was so red, I looked one of my alcoholic relatives on my father's side of the family. My voice was raspy. My throat on FIRE. I was running a low grade temp, and I was EXHAUSTED. I was looking forward to going home and going to bed because I was so tired, but I had to stay up til 10am because that was when I was to take the car in to the shop.

I had it all worked out: coffee with Paul, clean out the car of anything I might need during it's absence, take the car to the shop, go get the rental car, go home, go to bed. A plan that was beautiful in it's simplicity.

Coffee went accordingly. So did the cleaning of the car. With 15 minutes to spare, I just drove down the road to the body shop and turned my poor, dented little car over. Then, I waited...and waited...and waited for the Enterprise people to come pick me up so I could go get a rental. It's their slogan. "We'll pick you up!" (I know this because Kant used to work for Budget rental, and that was one of the biggest complaints from their customers.)

After waiting 40 minutes, the receptionist took pity on me and called Enterprise, who assured her that someone was on their way. Some fat guy came over to tell me that I needed to say something about their lateness and maybe I would get something to compensate. Go away, fat guy.

The driver finally arrived and took me to the rental center. Tired, sick, sulking...I sat stone-faced in the seat while the Crispy Christian station played on the radio. I secretly prayed that God would smite me dead at that given moment.

I am deposited at the rental center and I go to the counter to prepare for my pickup. I calmly asked if there was a mix-up with my ride, and the manager told me they had been busy, blah, blah, blah. He did assure me they would make things right. I feel a little better. Then, the crusty woman who was processing my information announces she is not giving me a car because my driver's license is expired.

Shit.

I call Trish and almost cry. She says she will come and get me. Crusty lady says they can take me back home if I want. I tell her no, because I have to go get a new driver's license...and I REALLY don't want to hear some preacher yelling on the radio again. Trish arrives in 15 minutes, but not before the manager takes pity upon me and gives me a cup of coffee. Or maybe he thought I was going to go postal. I call Mom and give her an update. She laughs like it's the funniest thing she has ever heard.

First stop: home. I have a hard time stumbling through the house looking for a utility bill (because we now have to have one when we renew our license as proof of residency). Then, I can't locate my passport. I can't find a birth certificate. I can't locate my social security card. I dump out two drawers, and three baskets before finding my passport and a gas bill from two months ago (I pay all my utilities online).

Trish then drives me to the DMV, the last place where anything goes right, and there is no line. I do the obligatory eye exam. Yes, I am a registered organ donor. Yes, I would like to register to vote. No, I don't want to donate a dollar to the Transplant Network, they already have dibs on my kidneys and my pancreas. Just give me my damn license!

She takes my picture. I'm still wearing my wrinkled scrubs. My face is pale. I look like a bag of chewed up assholes, and dirty feet. I'm sick, I'm tired, I'm extremely hostile. I get my license and my pic looks horrible. I look like I am all bloated like Jerry Lewis, and in need of a blood transfusion. Six years I get to deal with this fugly picture.

I wonder if they do retakes...

And I am not going to show you my license picture, so don't even bother asking!

Trish takes me back to the rental place where I go back inside...still hostile. Crusty lady isn't there, which was probably a good thing. A young guy helps me get processed. He blathered about insurance options, but none of it registered in my sleep-deprived brain. I just pointed to an option and grunted. He then leads me out to the parking lot, where I almost expect to find a Ford Pinto waiting for me. With the way my day is going, I figured that Enterprise has a car like this just for crabby people like me. Rental boy tells me to pick a car out. Some people like to relish such a decision and pick out something much nicer than what they usually drive.

I just point to a champagne colored vehicle in the corner and grunt. I'm fairly certain I'm drooling at this time.

Given my mental state, I am still amazed that they let me drive away with one of their cars.

I came home, got into my toasty pj's and settled into the bliss that is my bed. I'm just about ready to fall asleep when someone knocks on my door.

I charge to the front door and wing it open, ready to rip the head off of who was on the other side.

Too bad it was a police officer...

He was investigating a break-in that occurred last night across the street. How reassuring! Thousands of dollars of tools were stolen from an empty apartment that was being remodeled. Did I see anything suspicious? I tell him that I work nights, and wasn't home, so I didn't see anything (but smelly wounds and a patient pissing on the floor).

He presses further. Not anyone carrying a large circular saw? A truck that would be used to load stolen goods in?? Someone walking around late at night who looked like he didn't belong???

What part of working night shift do you not understand, Barney?!?

I resist the urge to take his taser and give him a jolt in his nutsack. A few more questions along the same lines, he goes away. I vow that if he is ever my patient, I am going to stick the biggest catheter I can find down his penis.

This is why cops should never piss off nurses.

I stop by the bathroom on my way back to bed and proceed to cough up my right lung. Out of curiousity, I shine a light into my mouth and examine the back of my throat. My tonsils red, angry, and are covered with white pockets. Fantastic! A shitty Monday isn't complete without a case of strep throat.

Luckily, I had a bottle of antibiotics in my cabinet that I was saving for such an occasion. I also took some lovely Tylenol with Benadryl so I may be put into a coma for the remainder of the day.

I just want to sleep and forget this day ever happened.