The saga of the sick laptop continues: I started it up the other day and, not only did it take a millennium to boot up, I got many "file corrupted, unable to read" messages. After 5 of those, my computer basically said, "for the love of God, run chdsk!" Great. I ran chkdsk, then re-ran it because I forgot to specify the "f" parameter, and after pages and pages of "corrupted file deleted; orphan file deleted" etc, I had to un-install and re-install Norton (bastards!) again. Then, as the POS tried to re-boot, it told me that the AC adapter was not recognized by Dell and that it may not work. As I looked at the AC adapter with the big DELL imprint on it. It came with the laptop; I'm guessing Dell knows about it. All in all, I think my laptop is about to go tits up, and I'm just waiting for the "unstable hard drive" screen or the Windows blue screen of death to show up and fry the whole system.

Last week I worked some overtime (gotta save that bouillon for Bahrain), and got into double time. w00t! And then promptly got sick and missed the next 2 and a half days of work. I guess it's the universe's way to prevent me from getting my ass chewed over the double time. God forbid I work overtime in these difficult economic times! Don't you know the hospital is struggling like all of us? I think I can be forgiven for not being aware after the building of the 75,000 square foot new emergency department with the private rooms, etched glass, and flat screen TVs in every room (why do crack heads need flat screen TVs? Or TVs at all?), purchasing the rival hospital and then expanding it, as well as expanding one of the outlying clinics into a hospital. And don't get me started on management salaries...but my two hours of double time will break 'em. How dare I be so selfish?

On top of getting sick with the plague I lost my favorite earrings as well.  Gloom!  Despair!  Agony, oh me!  Well, I lost one, but what good is only one earring unless you want to wear it as a nose piercing.  I tore this house apart looking for the damn thing.  I braved the spaces in between the couch cushions and that is a frightening prospect in this house.  You need a miner's light and an excorcist to go anywhere near them.  Alas, it was all for naught and I resigned myself to being depressed and morose.  The other night my knees were killing me and I decided to soak in a hot tub for relief.  I have a big garden tub, which, frankly, is lost on me, because I hardly use it.  I get in there and start thinking about how hot I am, and I'm wet, and this edge isn't very comfortable even with the pillow and can I get out yet?  Some have posited that I have difficulty relaxing, but I think they are wrong.  Anyway, my point is, I hardly use it and so, if I decide to, I need to clean it every time.  I was running water and was getting ready to sluice a tidal wave over the tub when, luckily, I looked toward the back and..MY EARRING!!  Booyah!  It must have gotten hung up on a towel and flung hither and yon.  Whatever, I got my diamond earrings back in my ears and had a bounce in my step.

SoS made me a necklace for Mother's Day:

 He insisted I guess the "magic phrase" before he gave it to me: "I'll give you a hint: the first word is I."
"Ummm...I love you?"
"You guessed it!  Mommy you are so smart!"

Once I opened it, he wanted to know if I loved it and if the colors were my favorite colors and would I wear it right now?  Huh, Mom?  Now?  Do you want to wear it now?  So I put it on and promised to wear it all day today at work as well.  It is these moments why this kid is still alive.  Otherwise I would have turned him  loose with the rest of the savage animals and he could fend for himself.  But when he's sweet like this, I'm reminded why I keep him around.


My well-known dislike of tanning my nips was under discussion today so my crazy friend/co-worker, who is known to molest doctor's husbands on accident while at Christmas parties, decided to help me out and built me some covers.

Why, yes, those do say "Party Hats" and I like that they are anatomically correct.   Dr. Good Drugs overheard us talking about them and insisted on seeing them.  So I pulled them out of my bag and discreetly showed him.  His response was to reach out and ask, "Can I touch 'em?"  Testosterone may cause brain damage.