This morning, there was a rather large spider in the bath. Aww, poor thing, he is stuck! I thought, going to gently lift him out of harm’s way. Hee. He must have been asleep and got a scare, because he startled like anything when I touched him, and webbed all over my hand. There we go, natural history lesson for the day; house-spiders make webs (which I did not know, but he abseiled gently down it and went to live behind the loo) and also, spiders sleep. And you can creep up on them. Hee hee hee.
Also, I really, really hurt after that trapeze lesson. Dammit, this is either comeuppance for being all, Ha! This will be a piece of piss! or for getting the biggest free go on a trapeze ever. It feels like steel bars have been stitched into my shoulders while I slept. Well, okay, I really don’t want a comparison test, so it probably doesn’t, but still: damn.
And I cannot be arsed, having had the shit kicked out of me by this week and no mistake, and I have a massive load of work this morning. God, I could just snooze the day away here! But I didn’t: I was Superb! Despite the junior having got to Dr Anonymous’s results.
Now, the way results work is this; Dr Anonymous reads them all and writes ‘file’ on them. I then go through all the last letters to see what is really going on, divide them into ‘people he said he’s see with results’ and ‘people he said he’d write to with results’ and start organising it all. And log the requested appointments and the reason, for when he complains later, Why is he seeing this patient?
(Ah, I remember away back when I was young and naïve and started this job, and I innocently filed everything he’d marked with ‘file’. It took a good couple of months for that storm to break, but when it broke it broke with the vengeance of dozens of GPs hitting the roof about their patients not being seen. And the patients hitting the roof. And everyone hitting the roof.)
Today, that did not happen so much. But it took me all day just to get through all the results – I didn’t even start the clinic typing. Aieee! And we have Monday off! Next week will be hell!
Next week is always hell, who am I kidding here.
It amused me greatly when my Colleague of Cakes came through to say, The Boss has called and said all sites are dead. We can go home an hour early!
Great, I said, Where is the time machine? For the Boss has called at two minutes to when I clock off anyway.
Made me chortle all the way home, so it did. I advise everyone to snigger to themselves in public, it makes people keep their distance. Unless they’re loonies. If they approach you while you are sniggering, snarl like a wolf. If they persist, call the cops: they’re batshit and probably dangerous.
Home; and I had the flat to myself. And a big pizza, also to myself, and a lovely evening to look forward to, and a long weekend after that. Happy days! Except, the hoover is definitely packing it in – ha, I thought something like that would happen. However, I did not foresee the results of tipping a load of gravel into the washing machine. At least, it sounded like gravel, which was odd, for I was fairly sure I had put in sheets.
Right, fine, I will still prevail. Or not; but if I don’t, I will certainly go down swinging!