This week at work has been relentless. One of my coworkers is out sick, and the nurse who usually fills in when we're busy has not been able to come work with us, and we're still short a full-time float position, which has left me and my supervisor to cover a crazy busy week.
And if that wasn't enough, the machine we take our medications out of has been on the blitz, which means at the end of the day we're having to go back and tell it everything all over again. The last two days I've not left work until 6:30, and today doesn't look like it's going to be any better. Therein lies the however.
This morning I woke up and looked at the clock. I couldn't remember what day it was. I asked The Hater, who squinched his eyes at me, wondering if there were any questions worthy of being asked at such an early hour. I wondered because Friday morning I have an office meeting... nevermind that I already had a nursing staff meeting on Monday... I couldn't remember if it was Thursday or Friday, which would determine if I was able to hit the snooze just one more time.
It's sad, I think, that I wasn't thinking, Oh, goodie! Friday! But instead, If it's Friday, I have to get up; if it's Thursday, I can rest one more snooze. I tried to rest, but by that time Zoloft had realized that I was awake, so she jumped on the bed and rubbed her whiskers in my face as she pawed my shoulder and meowed. Usually I fake sleep until she leaves me alone, but she had already heard me talking, and I didn't think I'd be able to trick her this morning. She might be amused by wads of paper, but she's still a smart cat.
We stretched in the floor and talked about how wonderful Friday will be. She's always excited for Friday, too, because that's the day we give her kitty crack, otherwise known as anti-hairball treats. She'll beg for them all week, much like we whine for Friday afternoon, and tomorrow we'll both know our sweet rewards.
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