They need nurses in England, don't they? I ain't afraid of a little change. It's when things stay the same that I get worried. Especially if by "the same" you mean "sucks really bad, with a retarded psychopath at the helm."
Ah, well. Enough moaning. For now.
I know it's getting to be winter out there in the world, because I want to wear a sweater all the time even though it's 85 degrees and sunny all day. But my body knows it, somewhere inside, and I want to sleep and eat lots of meat and wear the sweater I got in a thrift shop in Dublin, the ratty acrylic one that some old dude probably died in but I have to have with me at night to sleep. Then I go outside and it's summer, all sweaty and hot outside, but the light is different and the air sounds different. It's disconcerting.
Also, apropos of... really a lot of things, I'm sure, mom always said that if you put a saltine cracker at the bottom of your sugar jar, it would soak up the humidity so the sugar wouldn't get all crusty and hard. But, remind me, okay? Ginger crackers work, but then they disintegrate into a million pieces and now I have clumps of sugary dissolving cracker floating in my coffee every morning. They taste good, but, clumps.
Have I mentioned how much I don't like being a floor nurse? Right, I thought so. Anyway, yesterday I was told that I have to use the "official" report sheet of our unit to write my notes on. The only difference between my sheet and theirs, as far as I can tell, is that theirs is laid out landscape view and is done on pink paper. I said, "Oh. Okay," but this is kind of disturbing to me: when a unit starts worrying about stuff like that, you know management's heads are facing the wrong way, up there in their asses, and chances are slim they will ever pull out. I'm using the wrong color report sheet. This is vital, people. Vital.