22 January 2011

We all have our light and dark, our yin and yang. I'm just not sure if everyone else's are as wildly divergent as mine. I can swing from borderline freakish OCD at work, to horrifyingly stereotypical Gen-Xer slacker-from-hell once I hit the sweet, sweet chaos of home. If I have a patient with more than one IV line, I look like a squirrel on crack gathering the last known nuts for winter as I untwist, untie, and un-macrame. I am completely focused on each line being separate and identifiable from bag to hub, including labeling every pump and port. And then, then I can relax.

My slacker-from-hell persona usually shows up during sone kind of cleaning activity. Specifically, my broiler pan. I have a love/hate relationship with my broiler pan. I love the ease of broiling, but it can be a pain in the ass. If you spray the pan with nonstick spray, you have to be careful not to spray anywhere else because then you broil the spray into a sticky mess that is hard enough to cut glass and requires a sand blaster to clean. And if I don't use cooking spray, the meat us pretty much spot welded to the broiler by the marinade, sauce or it's own tasty juices. So, I'm then stuck soaking, scrubbing and swearing at the broiler until it's clean. Sometimes, I scrub until it is as smooth and shiny as the day I first laid a piece of succulent beef on it. (mmmmmmm succulent beef.) The flop side of this is that I think to myself, "Self, these suckers are 15 bucks max at Target." And then I go dump it in the trash in blissful satisfaction without the need to clear the SOS soap out from under my nails.

Where am I going with this? I broiled up Bamabi the other day and have finally decided that the broiler has soaked long enough. I just need to decide which me I'm going to be. Tough decision. Perhaps I should sleep on it some more.

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