There is, near as I can tell, only one real downside to nursing as a profession.
I'm not joking, people. The hours are long and the pay can be miserable, but there's always another (possibly better) job out there. Physically, it's hard work--but there's always another (possibly better) job out there. Patients and coworkers do share bugs with you now and again, but you get better. Mostly. Even the caffeine addiction can be broken, with time and careful medical management.
No, friends, the downside of which I speak is Not Being Able To Dress Oneself Any Longer.
I wear scrubs half my life. The other half I'm mostly in pajamas, unless I actually have to go out in public, in which case I'm in jeans. Packing for this trip to Canada has thrown me into a bit of a state; exactly how ugly a sweater can I wear on the streets of Montreal without being arrested for endangering the public? Are corduroys a good idea or a bad one? Should I take a belt? Do I own a belt?
Correspondent Albacore was kind enough to reassure me that Montreal isn't fashionable in the way Atlanta or Dallas is fashionable. She put it like this: it's more important to look different than to look good. Which is comforting because, while my dress is different, it's not good.
Albacore also mentions in the same email that there are great places to snowshoe and cross-country ski in the area. This frightens me. Longtime readers might recall last summer's trip to Banff, during which I was hauled gasping up and down mountains by my fit pals Joey and Magda. I just know that Joey and Magda will now strap me into a pair of snowshoes (or worse, skis) and take me out so that I can watch Joey's grace, Magda and Jhave's impressive fitness, and be instructed, German-Border-Guard-Style, by Joey's boyfriend Arek in how to ski. Or snowshoe. Just like he taught me to play pool.
Right now I'm packed. Down to the long underwear and pajamas. Things may change in the next 72 hours, but for now, it's done.
Be warned, Montreal: the world's worst dresser is headed your way.