What I did today
1. Worked 8am-1pm
2. took a nap
3. cooked carrots
4. baked chicken
You'd think this looked like a light day. Except the quantities on the carrots and the chicken make it anything but trivial. And the lemon-wine sauce for the chicken required grating and squeezing 20 lemons. I'm surprised I can type. I'm pretty sure I couldn't mouse with my right hand, though. It is very, very sore. Actually, I quit at 16 when I knocked over the bowl of the juice and spilled nearly a damned quart of it. I really wondered for a couple of minutes whether I ought to go into hysterics or just slit my wrists and be done with it. Yeah, I gave up, went to the store, and bought a bottle of lemon juice. At least the grated rind was still fine, that, after all, being the real work.
I just got home from this nightmare of cookery, and it's nearly 1:30am. I have to be up in four hours to call the hospital and either tell them I feel like death warmed over, which will be true, or (if I have a fit of utter insanity) to find out what floor I'm working. I've considered just calling out *now,* but they don't start trying to call people in until at least 5, anyway. I know this, because I'm one of the ones they are usually calling. Plus I may actually have the energy. In which case, I'll come home and nap afterwards, and will catch up with the rest of the people who were *not* at church helping me tonight, whenever I damned well wake up and have the energy.
What was I thinking when I took this shift in the first place? Well, that's the problem, I wasn't thinking, or I never would have. I should have worked no hours anywhere this week, truly.
2. took a nap
3. cooked carrots
4. baked chicken
You'd think this looked like a light day. Except the quantities on the carrots and the chicken make it anything but trivial. And the lemon-wine sauce for the chicken required grating and squeezing 20 lemons. I'm surprised I can type. I'm pretty sure I couldn't mouse with my right hand, though. It is very, very sore. Actually, I quit at 16 when I knocked over the bowl of the juice and spilled nearly a damned quart of it. I really wondered for a couple of minutes whether I ought to go into hysterics or just slit my wrists and be done with it. Yeah, I gave up, went to the store, and bought a bottle of lemon juice. At least the grated rind was still fine, that, after all, being the real work.
I just got home from this nightmare of cookery, and it's nearly 1:30am. I have to be up in four hours to call the hospital and either tell them I feel like death warmed over, which will be true, or (if I have a fit of utter insanity) to find out what floor I'm working. I've considered just calling out *now,* but they don't start trying to call people in until at least 5, anyway. I know this, because I'm one of the ones they are usually calling. Plus I may actually have the energy. In which case, I'll come home and nap afterwards, and will catch up with the rest of the people who were *not* at church helping me tonight, whenever I damned well wake up and have the energy.
What was I thinking when I took this shift in the first place? Well, that's the problem, I wasn't thinking, or I never would have. I should have worked no hours anywhere this week, truly.