Throughout my years as a writer, I’ve maintained my nursing license by working part-time, here and there at a clinic. However, due to some recent and, ahem, sudden staffing shortages, I’ve been needed on a more routine basis. I could use the money and am happy to help, so it works out well. I only have one complaint. Working is hard, y’all.
This is such a news flash that CNN is bound to pick up this article at anytime.
My mantra has always been, “Don’t work too hard,” and I’m proud to say I’ve stuck to that principle, until recently. I’ve been working about three days a week at the clinic. On my off days at home I write music reviews for the paper, and do my best to keep my blog current. Then there’s my husband who follows me around asking questions all the time like, “Lori, what do you want for dinner?” and, “Lori, do you have any whites that need to be washed?” Omg! I can’t make every decision by myself!!
Could you feel the sarcasm there? Yeah, my husband is kind of awesome. He works about fifty hours a week AND does all of the laundry. On his days off he cooks dinner. He’s a grat Dad and is kind of, really attractive. You know what else? He doesn’t complain. I can’t believe he’s still married to me, either.
When I got home from work the other night I walked in on him having a conversation with Luke (4).
Luke: “Dad, tell me a spooky story.”
Brantley: “It was a dark and stormy night when the power went out. Suddenly, the lightning flashed. It lit up our dark bedroom and I saw someone standing there. It was your Mom, and she didn’t have any makeup on!!”
Then, they both screamed and Luke laughed so hard he fell out of his chair.
So I’m working on getting over myself and becoming a better multi-tasker. I will close with a conversation I had with one of my patients this week.
Patient: “It smells weird in here.”
Me: “Yeah, that’s my body. I emit an odor when I’ve worked close to eight hours in a row.”