Sitting tucked up on the sofa tea cup in hand, laptop on knee and the x factor on the tv. Rockin' saturday nights I'm telling you. But it's my weekend off, it's my time and I love it.
The week started off badly. Well, to be honest the monday after a weekend on is always going to be rubbish. I'm knackered, my feet are knackered and well, as Mr S said I'm" just cream crackered dear." I mixed up2 warfarin prescriptions at 5 to 6 in the evening, I was chasing after blood chits at 6.25 and I got away at 6.31pm. I ran down the road, realised I had nothing to feed my dinner guest. I dived into the coop and at 6.50pm I had an assemblence of tea rammed into my mary poppins bag. At 7.02pm I carrerred into my street to discover dear friend abanndonned outside my front door. Apologies to all. Only to discover I'd come home attached to my bloomin bleep. Get me away from that thing. So the kettle's on and I'm on the phone to switchboard frantically transferring bleeps as it's the overnight one too And I breathe. I breathe again pour a couple of glasses of wine and relax. Now I understand alcoholics. Then a good gossip, a just about passable meal and more good gossip, things are looking up. Even tuesday was looking almost possible. I even avoided sending my cv in reply to the local chippers advert for a part time counter assistant. Perhaps life in hospital for me could go on.