August 1st, 2005

bend over

Dog cooch pus is the nastiest substance on earth.

Me, to stephinextremis, last night: "Well, I've already had dog cooch pus soak through my scrubs to my leg. My night can only get better from here!"

It didn't really get better, but nothing really topped that for gross. Even the partially paralyzed dog that sat down at a very inopportune time during a walk. At least then I only had to clean off her and not me.

And the co-worker drama is neverending ... long story short, i wish i could make up my own hours too.

When I left, they were just starting the fourth major surgery of the night. Two cat foreign bodies, a weimeraner pyometra, and the ruptured splenic tumor boxer. I've never seen so many in one night.

I'm eating crackers and salsa because nothing in my mom's house goes with anything else. there's all sorts of food, but no meals.

My mom is upstairs throwing a temper tantrum about something or other. Her tantrums make me look docile. Glad I'm not at the receiving end of this one, but if i stay awake too long i'm sure i'll end up to blame for something.
Hell, around here there's not even safety in sleep.

Tonight, after school and Michael, I get to go home. I'm looking forward to it. My house, my bed, my neurotic cats, my salad dressing.

EDIT: Two hours later, and "You know, you don't live here anymore. What makes you think it's 'your' bed anyway?" etcetera etcetera ad infinitum ...
Can she refrain from spreading the misery? I just want to sleep.
  • Current Mood
    drained drained
  • Tags