Add to that that the cats were all over me, doing their "We love you so much; here, let us lie on your belly" act, and it's been a good morning so far (all fifteen minutes of it, anyway).
I wonder what the house's previous owners were thinking when they painted the office ceiling high-gloss beige.
It's time I defrosted the freezer. Yes, I have a non-frost-free freezer; my refrigerator is Polish. It's the only one I could find that fit the space I had for it in the kitchen. Plus, who needs 120 cubic feet of refrigerator space when it's just one person?
We need a new definition of patients eligible for rehab. If they're strong enough to get themselves into a wheelchair, get out the door of the hospital, get 300 yards down the street, and score some meth, they're not candidates for rehab and can head on back to the house.
Max is thrilled that his girlfriend is back. Sophie lives next door. She can play "So's *Your* Mama" through the fence like nobody else, and loves to wrestle when they're in the same yard. She'd been gone for a week on a camping trip, and Max was bereft.
It's a really good feeling to wake up and know that not only do you not have to go to work, but you cleaned house yesterday and so have a free schedule today. I might, I dunno, fix some drawers in the kitchen this afternoon.
I just remembered that July 1st is coming up, and with that date, a whole new crop of residents will start rotations. It should be a fun month.
Texts From Last Night is one of the funniest things I have ever read. I went through about 20 pages of it and was crying, I was laughing so hard. (Link not safe for work; not safe for Mom.)
If you're hitting your PCA button 122 times in an hour, and you're half-asleep while doing it, there's something not right.
I need some new light-blocking curtains for the bedroom. Hm. Time to go to Target, I guess.
One of my coworkers and I did a little song-and-dance routine while chanting the lyrics to "Short Skirt/Long Jacket" the other day. It went over big. We may have found a weekend job.
Somebody added stickers with the words "Don't" and "Believin'" to the stop sign at the end of my street. Whoever you are, I salute you.
Friend Suzie's mom apparently just killed her third rosemary plant. I have got to head over there and see what she's doing wrong. Killing rosemary is damned near impossible, even for me.
When I was told that I had to fill out a requisition for a 20-gauge coudet catheter, I simply went up three floors and swiped one from another unit. This is why the supply situation is so bad.
I wonder what I'm doing this weekend. For the first time in seven years, I am not working over the Fourth. Not quite sure how that happened, either. Something tells me the weekend will involve Prosecco and good Mexican food and a mariachi band.
Notamus just leaped from the futon to my shoulder. He is HEAVY.
And now it's time to stop musing and have some more coffee.