I went to work Thursday as if it were any other office day. After fifteen years of working in the same department, and by virtue of outlasting every other reasonably sane nurse out there, I managed to fall into the sweet job of following up on quality in my ER. I still do bedside nursing, but I spend more time in the office now. the staff has learned to cringe whenever I come around. I am either handing out education materials and post tests, or explaining why they scored poorly on a chart audit that was translated from chicken scratch to Greek in one fell swoop.
In an effort to simplify my life, my family decided to brighten up two spaces by moving furniture around in the rooms that I use the most. Since my days off and my sisters days off seldom meet, but more importantly because she had off last Thursday and Friday, she decided this would be a good day for her to move my things around. Now, I have to say, she did call me in the middle of a particularly sticky audit and the distraction was welcome. And when she offered to move the computer desk and printers nearer to the window it sounded like a good idea.
Did I mention my things got moved around?
What I discovered when I came home was that every piece of paper in the file cabinet drawers were now laying on the bed, and or in plastic boxes. Every cord or wire was thrown together into a pile on the floor. My bookcase with all my favorite books, many of which contain explicit sex and erotica was now in the guest bedroom, just two weeks before the arrival of my fourteen and fifteen year old niece and nephew for a month visit. Yes, I am the cool aunt, but after hooking my eldest nephew on Anita Blake back before she was doing every thing that had a pecker, I try to turn them more towards the less explicit. He still calls me to tell me what a whore anita is, and we do comiserate on plots and characters. But I am the first one in line for her books, only now I send a copy down to him also.
(Heavy sigh,) I spent Thursday night separating cords and wires and reconnecting my computer. I lost sixty hours of research and print outs from every regency site available, in preparation for the regency historical that is halfway on paper and in my head. I just frowned at my bookcase. Instead of the cool novelty items I had on it, now it has a fat and lumbering TV perched precariously where my official Lord of the Rings gollum statue should be, right next to my singing nun statue.
When I arrived at work the next morning, I became aware that my left eye was twitching. Not once or twice, but intermittently all day long. Some small part of me thought it was kind of quirky and funny that I expressed my frustration by mimicking Popeye the sailor man. I mean it was almost comic how I was filled with dismay at what they had done in my absence and my family just shrugged their shoulders, with that “get over it” smile.
I’m not crazy about spinach, but I don’t hate it. I don’t smoke except from my ears when my family decides to do me a favor. I loved to wear funky hats back in the day and still wear a fur lined aviator hat every winter; but wearing a pea coat is as close as I get to navy wear. Popeye and eye, oh sorry, I mean -I- only have the funky eye in common and mine stopped twitching by the next day. I feel I must end this comic episode in my life as only the newsprint can. “*#@%!!”
Rhianna
