Wasn't that a Carpenters' song? I have some Carpenters music on my iPod, and despite Karen Carpenter having a good singing voice (not to mention she was a drummer, which is near and dear to my heart), I find that whenever I hear a Carpenters song, it has a depressing effect. The song could be about happiness and joy, and I would still have the urge to toss myself off a bridge.
I should take the Carpenters music off the iPod.
Anyway, here at home. It's rainy outside. While it's perfect sleeping weather, I'm wide awake...having been that way since seven this morning. Brother brought me some delicious McDonalds coffee, which I had with some multi-grain oatmeal. I'm trying to be better about what I eat. I have a year to get into hottie-mode for my next Caribbean trip.
The weekend passed with much of the same and then some. I found another nurse to work for me on Saturday so I could go to the Plaza Art Fair with Paul (ND!). I didn't see anything remarkable there, other than the $1.95 Angus burger that I suspect wasn't entirely all-beef. At any rate, the burger was good, and pretty much the only thing I ate that entire day. The art...I wasn't too impressed. I have issues with modern art, and I have mentioned this before. After a while, all the art started to look the same. Just because you throw something together and call it art, doesn't necessarily make you a professional artist. Much in the same matter that putting pictures of yourself on the internet doesn't make you a model either. Anyway, there were a couple things that I would considering hanging in my living room, but I wasn't about to shell out a grand for a picture of a flower basket.
Sunday night at worked sucked. I found myself running non-stop, barely squeezing enough time to snarf down a salad. At one point, someone announced a patient couldn't breathe, and I was able to test the sprint-ability of my clogs. I don't think I've ran that fast since my high school track days.
I also figured out that the intense pain in my left foot is plantar fasciitis. Maybe running in clogs isn't such a great idea. Two other nurses on my floor has/had it, and they had to wear this big dorky boot while working, to which other nurses made fun of them. I don't particularly want to wear the big, dorky boot...because I was one of the nurses who made fun of it. My coworkers have already warned me that if I wear the boot, I will be the lucky recipient of dorky-boot comments.
As of late, I've been reflecting on how much I loathe my job, or more to the point, the floor I work on. At first, I considered cutting back on the weekend hours and working two of the weekend shifts instead of all three. Bosshole told me that such a position didn't exist and it was either all or nothing. Ugh. Now, I'm contemplating doing travel nursing after the first of the year if the money is comparable to what I make now. I've spoken with Brother about him staying at the house while I travel, to which he enthusiastically replied, "Cool! Then I could turn the place into a brothel!"
Only if I get a cut...and only if I get to come home to a clean house.
Incidentally, Brother reports that a couple was found in a compromising position at work last night. She was polishing his chrome pipe, as it were. It's good to know that he has interesting work stories to share as well.
I think I may take my Carpenters-less iPod and head to the gym this morning to spend some quality time on the bike. Then, I can come home and maybe take a nap, because that's what rainy days are for.