It's Been a Hard Day's Night

It's been a hard day's night
Seems I am channeling an old Beatles song. Everytime Pam goes away, I seem to get the crap beat out of me. I am incredibly tired. I did not sleep on Sunday night, Monday night, Tuesday night or Wednesday night. Finally, I thought I would get to sleep on Thursday, but I had to get Mom to the hospital. I did sleep for about 4 hours that night. Friday night, I was in my own bed all night, but did not sleep. Brisco is perfectly happy to sleep in my bed. How a small dog can take up so much space, I will NEVER understand, but he does. He likes to sleep crossways on the pillows. Xena on the other hand, HATES to share her bed with him. She doesn't mind Teddy nearly so much, but Brisco, she absolutely HATES to share the bed with. She jumps off, then on, then off again. She stands on the bed and glowers at him. I place myself in the middles and she settles down, but that means I am not particularly comfortable. If I put Brisco on the floor, or in Mom's room in her chair or on the bed, he cries, barks and will not stay there. So, I become a human fence between the two of them. Add to that the 14 pages I got last night....Yes, I do not exaggerate. Fourteen. I hope Pam has had a nice vacation. Because I don't think I will ever allow her to leave, ever again. EVER. Aside from the fact that I miss her terribly (no one understands what I talk about in quite the same way), I don't think I could ever do this solo practice stuff again. I am too old, too tired, and too stressed. I started my day today with patients in two of the 3 local hospitals, rushed to one when the night shift nurse told me the patient was 9, alas, when I arrived she was really 4. Slight difference. I really needed to be at the OTHER hospital, where Mom was and where the other patient was as well. I came back and waited, waited, waited for her doc to make rounds, alas, he did not. I had to leave again, because this time the patient across town really WAS 9. She, thank the Lord, had a lovely little girl, who although she had only shown us clear fluid, turned it green while she was pushing. Then back across town again, Mom could be dismissed and she was chomping at the bit to get home. So I took her home, then back to the hosp again for the final (I pray) patient to deliver. This one will take some patience, too. 15 yrs old. Oh my.Everything is going to be all right.Everything is going to be all right.EVERYTHING is going to be all right.If I could only sleep for about 3 days.....

Dining Delights, No, REALLY

Wow, I forgot what real home-cooked food tastes like. Having Eunice here is like having died and gone to cooking heaven. We have a weekly menu. I get to suggest what I would like to eat. I don't have to eat expired food anymore. We cleaned out the fridge AND the freezer, thank God. It's wonderful. I have had fajitas, stir fry, roast that's not like shoe leather. No more freezerburned items, it's amazing.
Thank you Eunice, Thankyou, THANKYOU!

The further adventures of Clyde and Clara

Clyde and Clara are Karen's cats, whom I have described before in my writings. Well, Karen left for Michigan last Wednesday, and I have been cat-sitting again. I thought things were going very well, Clyde is always glad to see me, Clara is neurotic as usual. Until yesterday.

Clyde, who usually greets me at the door, was nowhere to be found yesterday morning. I could hear him meowing, but could not see him. I finally found him under the ottoman, when I moved it, there he was. I said, "Oh, poor Clyde, were you stuck there? (he wasn't)" and I reached down to pet him, and he attacked my hand, scratched up my arm and bit me! I retrieved my bleeding limb, and thought, FOR GOODNESS SAKE What is wrong with him.

I went upstairs, gave him fresh food and water, cleaned his litter box, did the same for Clara(who, by the way, was quite happy to see me), and started back down the stairs, and there was Clyde again, about 3/4 of the way down the stairs, back arched, hissing looking like Satan re-incarnated. I stepped closer, and he attacked my foot, which fortunately had on a sturdy New Balance sneaker, and pushed him down a step. He hissed and tried again.

I decided to "channel" the dog whisperer, and thinking more like a cat whisperer, I hissed back at him and stomped my feet on the stairs. It worked. He ran.

What the heck got into him.

I took my bloody arm home, washed it well with soap and water, treated it with antibiotic cream and a couple of bandaids. Hopefully I won't turn into a were-cat or get some sort of pasturella infection. Damn thing. That's the last time I cat sit for them!

My Dog Needs a Bath

What is it about dogs that makes them love to roll in stinky stuff?

I don't know what Xena has been into, but, Lord Almighty, does it ever stink.
Have you ever thought about the logistics of trying to bathe a 75 lb. doberman who does NOT want to be bathed? Right.......

The Oracle of Starbucks

This is evidently what they think of my perpetual order of a venti peppermint mocha.

Behold the Oracle's wisdom:
Personality type: Clueless
You don't go to Starbucks much; when you do you just tag along with other people since you have nothing better to do. You would like to order a Tazo Chai Crème but don't know how to pronounce it. Most people who drink Venti peppermint mocha are strippers.
Also drinks: Wine coolers
Can also be found at: The mall

Hmmmm. I think they missed the mark on that one....