Kvetchy Dame
Well, the valiant amoxicillin is in the process of vanquishing the streptococcal foe, and this damsel in distress is good and thankful (wait--I'm married; I think that might make me a dame in distress. hmm. well, then.). My fever's gone; I'm not all achy and exhausted any more; and although my throat still hurts a little, it feels like the cleaning lady's been through and gotten rid of the repulsive coating of bacterial scum on my soft palate.
Not only that, but yesterday when I went to class, I finally got to turn in my health form, and the administrator lady walked it over to the student health office herself and pushed it through and got immediate clearance, so I'm fully signed off for my clinical placement. It's finally taken care of, after weeks and weeks of procrastination (and then having to wait to get in to be seen for a physical, and then glitches with getting the form filled out, and then the administrator lady being out for a week...), feeling gnawingly anxious and guilty about it the whole time. Having it done with at this point feels like... like... like peeing when your bladder's really full. (Well, to be honest, maybe a more apt analogy would be the old chestnut about hitting yourself in the head with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop.)
So you might think that I'd have run out of things to complain about, at least briefly. But you would be mistaken.
My sermon for today is entitled Clerical Workers Are Not Appliances, and This Means You, Even If You Think You're Exempt Because You're Already So Enlightened Because You're a Nurse or a Social Worker, or for Any Other Reason. Well. Come to think of it, I guess the title of the sermon is probably all you really need just now. But I'm happy to deliver it in full with no honorarium required (just transportation and maybe some tea and cookies) to any sewing circle, ladies' garden club, scout troop, board of directors, womyn's collective, or motorcycle gang you wish. Just say the word.
Oh, and also? It's not my fault you're tired, so don't act like it is.
Um, and don't be dumb like me and take amoxicillin on an empty stomach. You might be very sorry.
Not only that, but yesterday when I went to class, I finally got to turn in my health form, and the administrator lady walked it over to the student health office herself and pushed it through and got immediate clearance, so I'm fully signed off for my clinical placement. It's finally taken care of, after weeks and weeks of procrastination (and then having to wait to get in to be seen for a physical, and then glitches with getting the form filled out, and then the administrator lady being out for a week...), feeling gnawingly anxious and guilty about it the whole time. Having it done with at this point feels like... like... like peeing when your bladder's really full. (Well, to be honest, maybe a more apt analogy would be the old chestnut about hitting yourself in the head with a hammer because it feels so good when you stop.)
So you might think that I'd have run out of things to complain about, at least briefly. But you would be mistaken.
My sermon for today is entitled Clerical Workers Are Not Appliances, and This Means You, Even If You Think You're Exempt Because You're Already So Enlightened Because You're a Nurse or a Social Worker, or for Any Other Reason. Well. Come to think of it, I guess the title of the sermon is probably all you really need just now. But I'm happy to deliver it in full with no honorarium required (just transportation and maybe some tea and cookies) to any sewing circle, ladies' garden club, scout troop, board of directors, womyn's collective, or motorcycle gang you wish. Just say the word.
Oh, and also? It's not my fault you're tired, so don't act like it is.
Um, and don't be dumb like me and take amoxicillin on an empty stomach. You might be very sorry.
posted by Rosie Bonner at 11:40 AM
5 Comments:
Oh, man. Guilty as charged, as the front office people at work will tell you. Even though I try not to. And even though I'm an enlightened lesbian librarian. You nailed it, sister.
No. Clerical People are not Appliances. Nor are Checkout people at the grocery store. Or Vet techs. Or nurses for that matter (that's for all you med students out there!! by the time you're a resident you'll know better or be so so so sorry you didn't figure it out) or ANYone whose work makes the world go round.
Preach on, Kvetchy Dame!
xxx
aka Marina
I'm with ya' 100% on the clerical/appliance thing...And as for the amoxicillan on an empty stomach...How 'bout amoxicillan on an empty stomach, followed an hour later by a warm tuna salad sandwich and generic cheese puffs (like the brand name would've been better somehow)and followed by forty-five minutes in the glaring sun, topped off by a ride on The Mind Eraser (a dangling legs roller coaster with several, um, inversions)at Six Flags. It was that last inversion that got me.
Ooh, Masked Mom, I'm so sorry. That sounds... gosh. Memorable.
I haven't heard the term "clerical workers" in so long that I thought they had something to do with The Church. And now that you've posted a sermon about them, they must. The conclusion to be drawn: "Clerical Workers Are Holy."
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