Monday = Recovery Day

The weekend at work didn't suck in grand fashion, although there were a few little annoyances here and there. A wound-tight resident who imploded at every little thing (she really needs to take up yoga or something), a screaming patient who cleaned out the entire floor out of Raisin Bran, and then wondered why she had diarrhea all the time, a husband of a family member who kept falling asleep in a chair and falling out of said chair. Plus, we are running a special this week for people who suddenly have a sustained heart rate in the 185-210 range. For those who are not medical savvy...that's not a good thing.

Last night, I managed to get fish oil on my jacket. I smelled like a bottom-feeder for the remaining of the shift. I found some body spray in my locker and tried that, and only succeeded in smelling like a cucumber-melon catfish. It was nauseating.

This morning, I came home so tired!! I was so tired, I didn't even have the energy to mess with pajamas. I just stripped off the fishy-cucumber-melon-smelling scrubs and crawled into bed. This was 8:30am.

At 10:30am someone was knocking on the door. Naturally, Sam was going apeshit. I stumbled out of bed, and in my sleepy-stupor, I stood in my bedroom for a minute trying to figure out why I wasn't wearing any clothes.

I found my robe, remembered how to put it on, and answered the door. Damn. That squirrelly maintenance man to come and check on my bathroom ceiling. Guess what! It still leaks. I pointed to the water stain, grunted, and went back into my room, slamming the door behind me. Usually, waking me up immediately results in pain of death. I was too exhausted to do it, though, even if the guy was small and I could have easily squished him.

Squirrelly guy muttered something about the leaky ceiling, left, and never came back. Maybe he had a feeling his life was in great peril. Maybe he's realized that he has no idea what he's doing and will defer to professionals. Maybe both.

I slept until noon, got up, got dressed, and drove to the realtor's office to sign my offer and look over some paperwork. An inspection had already been done by the company that owns the house. An extensive inspection. If the previous owner had hemorrhoids, I'm almost certain the inspector would have found them, and noted it on his report. That's how thorough the inspection was.

For my own sanity, I'm going to have another inspection done.

After 2 hours of this, I finally got to come home and crawl back into bed, this time making certain I had pajamas on.

I'm still tired. I have a quiche in the oven, and as soon as a piece of it settles in my stomach, I'm going to retire for the rest of the night. Tomorrow is election day, and I can't wait to weed through all the crappy candidates.