Day two of the Day-offness

Had the day off today because of "low census" which basically means there are no doctors hanging around the office seeing patients because they are all in the OR taking things out of patients. Since it is normally my clinic day and there were no patients scheduled...guess who got the day off...ME. That's fine...I had things to do...things I should have done seven years ago.

See...I got remarried seven years ago. I GUESS you're SUPPOSED to get your name changed on your Social Security card right away. Well. I didn't. This year in July, when my driver's license expired, I went tripping merrily into the DMV (don't believe that for a minute, NO ONE is merry at the DMV) only to be told that my name and social security number didn't match and so NO DRIVER'S LICENSE FOR YOU! I kept saying "you're kiddin me". The woman behind the counter who I believe has been there since the wheel was invented, said "no ma'am...you are a NO MATCH FLAG". And then she scowled at me. Like I'd killed a kitten with my bare hands. I scooped up all my assorted miscellaneous identification and certification papers and stomped out of there mumbling the whole way. And then I didn't do anything about it until January. Guess I showed them huh?

Today, since I had the day off and the sick children were well enough to resume their usual escapades, I decided that I'd take care of all this once and for all. So I called the Social Security office which is in the WORST section of the city and was informed that I couldn't get my name changed because my license was invalid...but I can't get a new license because my Social Security card has the wrong name on it...are you detecting a government plot here? The woman on the phone finally tells me that if I bring a copy of a medical record in with my marriage license, they will change my name...however...it must be STAMPED and DATED and SIGNED. No exceptions...thank you very much. I huffed around for awhile and she wasn't changing her mind AT ALL. I called the hospital to get a STAMPED DATED SIGNED copy of a medical record and was told that I could have one for 75 cents on MONDAY because today, they were moving. OH COME ON!!!! I begged, I pleaded. I got my way. The woman says "but you have to sign a consent". Wait...let's think about this...I have to sign a consent to give a copy of MY medical record to ME? And wait, wait...I have to pay for that. I didn't ask any questions because I didn't want to tick off anyone who had any kind of OFFICIAL RECORD POWER. I paid my 75 cents, and off I went to the Social Security office.

Big scary guy behind the desk with a GUN says..."what you here for?" "name change" "married?" "yup." "Press that number one on that key pad". And out spits a number on a piece of paper. 26. I look at the "Now Serving" sign...it says FIFTEEN. I picked out a chair and set up camp.

After about 40 minutes, my number comes up and I bolted for the counter. Had all my documentation ready, spread it all out, tried to crack a couple of jokes and got the evil, hairy eyeball from the woman behind the counter. Nothing funny at the Social Security office apparently. She types a little bit, GIVES ME ALL MY DOCUMENTATION BACK, and says you'll get a new card in 10 days. NEXT! All that...for THAT? Okay...I check my watch and think I can make it to the DMV!!! I'll be all done! Legal in all ways!

DMV. Waiting in line. Girl behind the counter is having a fascinating discussion with the clerk two windows down about when the Dairy Queen opens. I finally get up to the window and tell her that I really should have been here in July, blah blah..they sent me away...blah blah...have this social security office receipt, blah blah...new license...blah. She yells down to another counter "HEY, SHE AIN'T BEEN HERE SINCE JULY AND SHE WAS FLAGGED!". All eyes in the place look at me like I've got scabies. I said "but I don't have my new card yet...I just went today..." "TODAY????" "Yes today, haha...anyway...I need to get a new license..." "Not until you get that CARD. NEXT!!!".

I could adopt ten children from a third world country and I wouldn't be put through this much hassle. The bad part is...even if I would have done this all on time...it STILL would have been an ordeal! So. I'm still driving with a license that expired in July. And really behaving myself by the way. But at least my taxes are properly labeled now! Homeland Security can just scratch me off their list!

ALL TOGETHER NOW!

"All you need is LOVE...YAHT-DA-DA-DAH-DAHHHH, All you need is LOVE...YAHT-DA-DA-DAH-DAHHH! (sing it like the Beatles friends!)

This one of the 10,000 heart decorations that Emma made for her "holiday party" that she thinks she's having. That pink SCHMEAR on the lacey doily...glitter glue! YEAH BABY! We were ALL wearin that stuff by the end of the crafting session!!!

I'd like to withdraw my resume please....

I have a full time job as the clinic nurse in a three surgeon neurosurgery office. I spend my days discussing the finer points of lumbar laminectomies with people and debating whether or not the stuff we drained out of a brain abscess was staphylococcus or some other weird pus generating germ. Really fascinating stuff...I swear. Usually around 1:30 or 2:00 I start wistfully thinking that I'd really like to be at home playing with play dough with my daughter and imagine us playing happily in her room introducing My Little Pony to Dora and Boots so that they can discuss the latest in exploring and pony hairstyles.

Today....I stayed home. Emma has a cold and sounded grunky this morning (medical term grun-KEE - to be filled with grunk). My 15 year old wasn't feeling well either, so I (mother of the year) told him he could stay home. I called off work last night and blissfully made plans for the day. Waffles, chocolate chip cookies, chicken noodle soup. Ahhhhh.....a perfect day of domesticity.

Things were going according to my grand plan. I made waffles, started the soup, made the cookies, things were looking good. Filled the dishwasher, washed the pots and pans that wouldn't fit, took the dogs out, brought the dogs in, asked Emma to get dressed, fed the birds the left over waffles, picked up the house, asked Emma to get dressed again, called and made Greg an eye appointment, TOLD Emma to get dressed, tried to explain to the mortgage company that the check was on the way, GOT Emma dressed. Tried to talk two sick children into eating lunch. Failed. Emma agreed to eat several Oreos. Gave in. Picked up the house again, washed more dishes. Put the soup away because no one ate any. Dogs out...dogs in...more juice...decided I'd make some beads to sell on Ebay...ended up getting out green play dough...gave up making beads...dogs barking.."STOP IT!!!!"...dogs barking "FROSTY!!!" PEACHES!!". Cleaned up green play dough...averted tragedy with milk glass left on coffee table. Hung up Valentines decoration for the "holiday party" Emma thinks she's having. Talked to my ex-husband twice and my husband three times, dogs out...dogs in...picked up house. Woke up 15 year old. Cut pineapple, tried to plan dinner. Child yelling "DOGS EAT DOGS EAT DOGS EAT" while marching around the house with play food. Child throwing plastic green peppers at dog...dog yapping with delight. Fifteen year old hiding in room...finally finished set of beads..posted to Ebay...start dinner...child RUNNING RUNNING..."STOP RUNNING!! EMMA I MEAN IT!!!! YOU"RE GOING TO GET IT!!!" Child mocks mother and runs with delight into the living room trailing plastic food from big basket o' plastic food. DOGS BARKING!!!

Discussing brain abscesses is like lying on the beach. I have tomorrow off TOO...(giggles hysterically).

Pretty sure their feet have all snapped off

Negative NINE here. I guess I wouldn't go out to eat either. But don't they need calories? Dang, I know it's from Lowe's but it's better than pecking paint chips off a house! I think they're snubbing me. I'll bet they have on their little birdy muck-lucks and they're laughing at me from behind a bush while I was skittering out to the feeder in my socks with my paltry bag of feed. They've probably already eaten at the IHOP dumpster. Freaks.

OH....and all the 'stuff' in the background (whispers) N-E-I-G-H-B-O-R'S!

Running on empty

The end of the day is typically chaos for me. It usually involves a frantic rush of phone calls from patients who have waited until 2 minutes before we close to call me and ask questions about some life or death situation. I have to pick up Emma at 5:30 from day-care, so once I have the last phone call done and the receptionist puts the phones over to the service I SPRINT for the door, coat half on, name badge in hand all ready to swipe out, while yelling "I'm OUT!" I then have an eleven minute jog across campus that includes 4 flights of stairs, 2 escalators, a pedestrian bridge over four lanes of traffic and a revolving door. Then it's in the car and across town which takes AT LEAST 20 minutes and then another 7 minutes to the day-care center where I skid into the parking lot sideways and sprint for THEIR door.

No...actually, I just made that last part up...it sounded more dramatic. Because really by that time I'm noodley and tired and it's all I can do to drag myself out of the car to the door and summons up my last bit of strength to put the combination into the door at the school. Emma greets me with flying hair and arms outstretched and I always perk up at that point.

Tonight, however (ominous chord of music), I needed gas.

I don't know WHAT it is about getting gas, but I'd rather have my skin removed with a cheese grater than pump my own gas. Especially when it's cold, or rainy, or really any kind of weather..but remember my previous entries about it being cold? Well it's actually drifting toward RIDICULOUSLY cold at this point and we're supposed to have a low of like 22 BELOW ZERO tonight. That ain't right. And I'm not ABOUT to pump my own gas in that kind of weather. For Pete's sake my feet could snap right off! (refer to previous bird pity posts).

So I cruised into this teeny tiny weeny BP station that I pass on the way home. They proudly advertise "WE PUMP YOUR GAS FOR FREE!" So I take advantage of their good nature every chance I get. Tonight....the entire automobile driving WORLD was parked in their teeny tiny weeny LOT. Lazy freaks. So I pulled my lazy freaky self right behind this guy who was parked next to the pump. I noticed there was no gas pumping thingy stuck in the side of his car and figured he must be finished. As I and the rest of the bazillion cars waited, he proceeded to leisurely wash his windows with that sponge thing on a stick...and then squeegeed his windows carefully using the other side of the sponge on a stick, CAREFULLY AND PAINFULLY WIPING THE SQUEEGEE between EVERY SQUEEGE! After the first time he did it...I started thinking about how he must not be right in the head. After the second time he did it, I started thinking he was trying to piss us all off. After the THIRD time he did the SAME front window...I started planning ways to remove his SPLEEN through his left NOSTRIL.

Okay...FIRST..I'm LATE at this point and B...It's COLD! The fact that I'm in a warm car not withstanding, the old guy pumping the gas could lose a scaly FOOT out there! So I started making passive aggressive faces...then I put my car in reverse and forward a couple of times. He lazily dipped the sponge in what must have been DAMN NEAR FROZEN water in that sponge thing's bucket! Finally, the car that was in the FIRST pump space drove off and I made a big production of driving around this guy and backing right up to his front grill so that I could be next to the pump. I was glaring at everyone at this point because DAMN IT, I just sprinted across an entire hospital to get here and I need someone to pump my gas!

I sat there for a while and finally this older guy with leopard earmuffs (really....old guy...leopard earmuffs!), came up and tapped on my passenger window. I have never been able to work that control panel for those windows and after I'd rolled down EVERY window but the one that Leopard Muffs was standing at, I finally hit the right button. This old guy was a study in efficiency. Grabbed the money, pumped the gas, smacked the back of my SUV and yelled "GO!". It was like he was a member of a NASCAR pit crew (not that I watch that 'stuff').

As I drove away, I checked the window one more time and Squeegee Boy was leisurely pulling his keys out of his pocket. Just wait til Leopard Muffs' ears freeze and fall off and he won't have anything to hold those muffs up! And who will pump my gas next time if he has no ears and can't wear his leopard muffs? I don't want the holes in his head to get all cold! And I can't pump my own gas for Pete's SAKE. And it's all SQUEEGEE BOY'S fault!