Drowning Sorrows

...in one of Tim's home brews. Bryan's Cross-Country Stout, to be exact. A couple months of aging has mellowed it ever so nicely. It goes great with a big old ham sammich and a couple of bourbon balls.

The week's reflections:

---I HATE visiting dying people. Just hate it. What's the right thing to do? Do I touch her hand? What do I say? Pretty much anything but 'hello' comes out sounding retarded. One of Tim's aunts is pretty much at death's door. We went to see her on Friday morning. She's a shrunken, jaundiced, semi-comatose shadow of her former self. Family reunions won't be the same without her. It was a short, uncomfortable visit.

---How can the house get so freaking dirty after less than a week? 6 days ago, it was shiny, sparkly clean. What the hell happened? *grumbles while wiping cat puke off kitchen rugs*

---People are still obliviously, ignorantly hosing their coworkers by leaving unfinished crap that they should have taken care of. A shift and a half ago.

---Nurses are still obliviously, ignorantly mislabeling specimens and having absolutely no clue how to collect them. The disillusionment is crushing. Honestly, I really thought January 1st 2007 would be the momentous day all this would change.

---The part time tech we hired to help plug all the short-staffed holes on third shift? Weeeeeeellllll, it seems she's not quite ready for prime time. Let's just say she's not quite Green Beret material. Yet. She's gonna need just a bit more training. She ain't gonna survive the push out the bomber plane door otherwise known as third shift. So we're going to have to tough the staff shortage out just a wee bit longer.

---Tim says he's going to pack up Homy and put him back in his box today.