As the birds screw........

          So Jeremy sends me this text yesterday, which was apparently the “Black Friday” of Heart surgery (no one told me, complete with mad crowds and flash sales) and the message said, “I think the birds are fucking”. Great, like I care and I’m glad someone has enough energy for it.

I was thinking, I guess maybe that’s a big deal for you right now as you watch parakeet porn, but mamas gotta go save a life, okay. I’m sorry I don’t care right now but I promise to listen to the entire story as soon as I drag my tired, fat ass home.  We had a marathon of work all week and I just can’t stop and think about sex, let alone the sexathon that our birds have decided to run.

 I guess Jeremy does, he’s at home with them all day every day (when I haven’t given him a thousand things to do). I should be ashamed of myself, the best man in the world and I choose to blog about him. He was just trying to make me smile in the middle of the horrible day…..and let me know our birds were screwing.

          So as our trip grows nearer, I’m beginning to panic a little. The suitcases have been borrowed and the reservations have been made. I have no script. Do you just go to the walk in clinic and ask for Xanax? I’m sure that would just be a wasted 25.00 copay; Or maybe, it would be like a breath of fresh air to whomever was seeing you. NO BULLSHIT, or stories about lost prescriptions or whatever. Just, hey I’m traveling and every time I have tried this I feel like I’m gonna die. I cry until the other passengers start complaining (one guy even ask for a seat change), and I want to ENJOY this trip. Can I have a few Xanax to make it through without being beaten about the head and shoulders by the other passengers? Do you think that would work?

          I was talking about this while we were cleaning the room for the thousandth time yesterday in preparation for our next patient. I said that perhaps a cruise would be more relaxing to me, more so than a flight would and try a vacation (since I had never been on a true vacation). I explained to them as I continued cleaning, that I was sure that I would be on a vessel that ended up stranded or marooned off some island (because that happens so frequently….never mind that sarcastic remark…)

          I wondered out loud if the Coast Guard would come and save me if I ask or if Captain Andy and Jonathan would come to my rescue? A coworker, we will call him Fred, dryly stated, “Oh, I’m sure if they were on board with you, they would volunteer you first to go, one way or another”.

          Nice. Even “Fred” is against me. Now in my mind I begin picturing hundreds of people holding court and deciding whether to throw me off or to help me get off with the Coast Guard, or trying to row a cruise liner with the kids even helping by kicking their little feet off the lower decks. Assholes.

 I can’t help it I think the worst every time. It’s my mother! I told her just today that I was turning into her and she told me, that I was just realizing I‘d been her all along……

          WOW, I can’t handle that kind of stress. I think I’ll go watch the birds screw…..