My exciting week

I still have 2 more nights of work, off Sunday and back for 3 in a row.  I love nights because I can get things done during the day and because I am so not a morning person.  But sometimes I miss the curling up on the couch with a glass of wine and some trashy tv midweek feeling.

It's been a week.

Last night at work a man peed in his applesauce container.  When I asked him why he said "It was there and it was empty".  He wasn't homeless.  I bet at his house he uses the toilet.  It's a very interesting thing the ER does to people.  They come there and they have the urge to be naked, to yell and to urinate in areas most places would deem illegal.  Or at least inappropriate.

Speaking of peeing, I'm dogsitting for The Boy's family's sheepdog.  Who hates to pee on concrete.  She will only pee on grass and only while she is off the leash.  So to walk the two pooches has been quite the interesting task this week.  My dog pulls and she's 60 pounds.  His dog is good but she's 80 pounds.  I have to trek to the only nearby area that has grass (which is limited in Manhattan) and let the big one off the leash while I beg my dog to behave and stop being jealous.  I also have to coax the sheep dog with "Izzie go pee" 6 or 7 times before she understands what is expected of her.  Then we make the trek home (because the nearby grass isn't really that nearby) and I have to beg Izzie to eat.  

I wanted 2 dogs for a while and now I'm rethinking the whole thing.  It is sweet how she follows me all over the place though.

There isn't too much going on.  The Boy is out of the state, the job is tiring, but entertaining and the dogs make it possible for me to skip the gym this week.

They made a Peanut Butter Twix

Oh. My. Goddness. Peanut Butter and Twix??? Who said this world wasn't a place filled with joy and love??

Maybe I'll allow myself to have one one day.

Hold tight and never let go (at least not until i say so)

I hate the fact that I still get a bit anxious from time to time.  For no logical reasons.  When I was a teenager, I used to get anxiety attacks all the time.  I was incapable of eating due to the fact that my stomach was in knots all the time and as a result my mom presented me with pamphlets about eating disorders.  

These days, my anxiety attacks aren't as dramatic.  I still get the knots in the stomach, but trust me there ain't nobody accusing me of any eating disorders.  It seems to happen when I'm the most hormonal.  

The people closest to me are affected most by this.  Diana, one of my best friends, gets to hear me lament about all my fears in the world, The Boy gets accused of not loving me enough (which even now as I write seems absolutely absurd).  Even my dog gets extra mushing because she has that Golden Retriever calming way.

Today the pooch is in Long Island with The Boy.  He came over this morning after work just as I was coming home so we could snooze a bit together.  When he woke up and said he had to go I actually asked him if he was mad at me.

I did nothing wrong of course, I was just being menstrual and needy and couldn't understand why he would want to leave after just sleeping.  Although that was the plan all along and in retrospect it made sense.  He picked up the dog, took her to the Island and I will see them this weekend.  It was actually sweet that he drove so far for so little an amount of time.  (Yes I do appreciate the little things - it's my ovaries that generate such silly thoughts).

I understand why guys think girls are crazy.  But to the defense of the female sex, we spend most of our lives "pulling it together".  For work, for our even more needy friends, for our nosey family and for the strangers we meet.  We give birth and have periods and we age a little less graceful without the use of plastic surgery.  So if we actually have the luck of being comfortable enough with our "other halves" to ask for a little extra luvin, I think the monthly surge of hormones should be excused.

Just a thought.  

The Morning Rush....

I am so f*ing nosey.  I guess it comes from being an only child.  I was excellent at pretending I wasn't paying any attention while the adults would talk.  But my ears were perked up to everything.  I took it all in, memorized it and used it to my advantage later on.  Sometimes only for entertainment.  Sometimes for prophet.  Maybe my nosiness is the reason I was drawn to working in the ER.  I get to see tiny glimpses into people's everyday mishaps.

My nosiness keeps me entertained.  The elevator this morning, is a good example.  It was about 645am when I was going back to work from my break.  Of course the elevator had to stop on every single floor. And the most entertaining bunch got on....

Floor 26 was a young doctor, my guess was an intern based on how terrified she looked.  All I could wonder was how long her pretty blond highlights were going to last when they had her working 6 days a week on the Surgical ICU.  And I had to check her wedding finger because I always wonder why the doctors marry so young.  It never lasts.  She was single.  Smart.  The ER will eat her alive.  I tried to smile warmly as if to say "us nurses aren't all bitches".  But we pretty much are.

Floor 23 was a young-ish looking guy in jean shorts and a tee shirt.  I guessed he must have been some one's sleepover buddy based on the fact that it was 645am on a weekday and he wasn't dressed for anything that resembled a respectable job.  Then my mind began to wander.  Trying to figure out who in the building he could be sleeping with.  But it's a 35 story building so, moving on...

Floor 22 (ugh I hate when it stops just seconds apart) was a pudgy little woman who was loudly eating a donut for breakfast.  It looked kind of good, despite the fact that loud eaters are a huge pet peeve.  And I wondered who just happens to have strawberry frosted donuts readily available in their apartments?  How fancy.

Floor 11 was the polar opposite of the donut girl.  A tall, stick of woman dressed in skintight black.  I swear I could see her small intestine through her skirt.  She looked like a cross between Audry Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's and those guitar chicks in the Robert Palmer "Addicted to Love" video.  She also looked like she hadn't eaten food since 1985.  I caught a glimpse of the look she shot at the pudgy donut girl and it was crystal clear that she did not approve of her choice in breakfast fare.  I bet she's the kind of woman who has a cigarette and black coffee for breakfast.

Finally, after what seemed like the longest elevator ride ever (I say that about every elevator ride) we got to the lobby where all my little story characters made a mad dash for the door.  Except for the donut girl.  She kind of moseyed on, enjoying the strawberry frosted.  As if she didn't have a day ahead of her.  Not a care in the world.  Definitely was oblivious to the fact that the strawberry frosted will go right to her hips, (and butt and thighs).  And I kind of respected her "ain't no donut gonna make me feel guilty" attitude.

You go, donut girl.  In fact, go back upstairs and grab an extra one for our 85 pound friend while you're at it.

What I can Put off until tomorrow.... But I tried to do today (or how I'm stuck in a rut and need a change of scenery)

I need a change so bad it's killing me.  I say that every so often - but then go back to doing the daily thing and ultimately getting stuck.

I've been saying for years that if I don't leave my job soon I will never grow.  ER nursing is exciting for a while but lately I'm on autopilot.  And even the guy who had a phobia of stretchers (and an earplug stuck in his ear for three weeks) didn't make me want to laugh behind his back.  It's getting mundane.

So, today, after a rather irritating e-mail from my place of work, I rashly made the decision to e-mail a recruiter from another hospital with my resume.  Who knows if I'd go through with it in the long run?  But it feels good to have options.  Options are what gets me out of bed in the morning.  Er - afternoon.  (I work nights).

I know this stems from I need a vacation-itis.  The cure?  I'm going to Montauk tomorrow

with The Boy and his fam.  Who are a fun bunch.  Think, the family in Dan in Real Life.  Board games, guitars, beach bonfires - the whole shebang.  Enough to get me out of the rut I'm in for now.  A band aid (when what I really need is surgery).  But exciting, nonetheless.

Another flame to the fire that is today - I went bathing suit shopping for the Montauk extravaganza.  What I want is an adorable Betsy Johnson number that I saw in a Macy's catalog. Those of you not from NYC - Macy's is not a miracle on 34th street - it is a day in HELL. Worse than the DMV.  Worse than the GYN.  I'd rather go to the DMV and spread my legs into some 

stirrups and get a GYN exam if it means I can avoid Macy's.

Instead, I went to the BJ store and Bloomies. Nada.  I know it's August - but that does not mean it's time to get out the mink coat and the UGGs.  The only suits left were XL or XS. Nothing for me.  Sooooo, tomorrow I am sentenced to the flames because I have got to track down this adorable suit from BJ.  I'll go early.  Avoid the crowd of onlookers who must have just got their walking legs.  But for Betsy -it's worth it.  Wish me luck.