A hundred and six outside Casa Del Thank God For Airconditioning, friends. That's what it is today. Ah, nothing like that dry, baking Texas heat in the summertime, except for when it's a hundred and six outside with humidity of seventy-four percent.
This time of year, all I eat (seems like) is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and water. And frozen veggies, straight out of the bag, applied to temples, wrists, and ankles.
When I was in Seattle two weeks ago, it was sunny and 75. And everybody I ran into, from the barmaid at the fish bar to the cashier at Archie McPhee, started the conversation with something like, "Gosh, isn't it hot? I can't stand this heat." Given that the low that morning at the Dallas airport was a full ten degrees warmer than Seattle's high, I was not inclined to be sympathetic.
Speaking of disinclining to sympathy, we have a new crop of residents in most services (well, comparatively new; they came on on July 1st) and the same crop of neuro guys on new rotations. I had to tell one of 'em the other day that just because you change services does not mean that you get to write craptastic, freaky orders and then complain when we call you to clarify.
The rest of the residents range from outstanding to just fine. There's always one, though, and it's our destiny to work closely with him for the next two months, since he's covering two services at once.
The only reason I look forward to working with him is because it means I'll be in air-conditioning for twelve hours.