Reality Bites

Ever had a [insert period of time here] when you woke up, on your day off, and felt miserably bored and tired of yourself in a petulant, adolescent way that recalls the collective teen angst found in the movie The Breakfast Club or Kevin Costner at the beginning of Dances With Wolves?

You know where I'm going with this line of thought... do I really need to elaborate?

Any way, work was pheomenonal this weekend. Everybody needed IVP Cardizem, stat, or was choking on a big fat old mucous plug while hypoglycemic, or spiking a temperature, or climbing over the bedrails and wobbling over to the bedside commode while some tech who was supposed to be watching the patient was off snorting coke, dealing illegal weapons, or whatever it is they do while the rest of run ourselves ragged.

My days off aren't much better. I basically sit at home, knit, look up useless shit on the internet, and become increasingly withdrawn from society. Pretty soon I'm going to be drawing up dinner menus consisting of human liver and fava beans.

Meawhile I'm trying to figure out what to do with all the cigarette butts left outside on my sidewalk by those damned inconsiderate teenage wahoos who visit the other dumbass teenager who lives below us. I have half a mind to pick them all up using disposable tweezers, put them in the discarded cigarette box I found (thrown under my porch, the assholes!) and tape them to his mother's door with a note saying, "Don't be bitter, please don't litter!" or something innocuous .

The little fuckwads.