There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

Oh hai. Where have I been? Doing f* all except knitting and updating my knitting blog waaaaaay more dilligently than this one.

In terms of life, things are moving. My Honey is getting set to move to LAAANDON in less than a week (ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh), leaving me here to work my wee fingers to the bone, alllllll alone, for another 3 months. Actually, I've noticed that the work gods like to frequently piss on my parade whenever I plan on taking a holiday. I'd managed to swap my schedule around enough at the Library to take a whole week off without having to lose a day of pay so that I could get down to London and move my half of my shit in to our new flat. I'd worked out the cheapest way to get down to London (via Brimingham as it happens) and then out to Surbiton. I was thiiiiiiiiiiiiiis close to buying the tickets, but I was waiting until the start of the month when I got paid. And then I got a call from the Temp Agency. Temp Agency said the Hospital of Hell wanted me back for two weeks to cover a holidayh leave. So I was faced with either declining and going through with my soujourn down to London, or working the two weeks, make about what I make in a MONTH of working at the Library, and then plan to go down to London at the end of the month for Kiki's birthday.

I caved and said I'd do it.

So starting Monday 14, I will be going back to the Hospital of Hell to do reception for two weeks (and hopefully making some yarn money rent/train fare/food money). BUT, because I swapped all my days around to plan for a week off, it means I am working a full Monday-Saturday weeek at the library for one of those two weeks ON TOP of the Hopsital job. So I'm doing 14 hour days.

And I know that as much as I need to scrimp and save right now to be able to afford London life, I plan on living off Ramen noodles for 2 months and treating myself to ENOUGH YARN FOR A KICK ASS SWEATER.

Today at the Hospital, a woman ran up to my desk, looking very flustered, and asked "Is this where you do colonoscopies?"

I hope that I'm not the only one who gets lost for words around certain people in certain situations- like the one I am guaranteed to face at least once a day (if not more).

For instance- how do you tell an old man in a wheelchair to please take a seat? At the hospital, after I check the patients in, I ask them to have a seat until the nurse arrives to collect them. But it sounds so strange to say it to someone who is already in a seat. They obviously can't take one because they are affixed to one! So what do you say?

A lot of the time, they are also deaf, drooling, or in a state of suspended animation.

Then there are the ones who come in from lord knows where all wrapped up on a hospital bed. I personally can't think of anything more embarrassing. I mean, let's say you're old and need to get a camera shoved up your butt..for fun. There isn't anything I would rather do than enter the Day Bed Suite on a gurney, being pulled along like lost luggage by the ambulance officers, all the while having everyone else in the reception room stare at the drool puddling from the corner of my mouth because my arms are strapped to my side for safety. I mean, there is a back entrance that would save the poor guy the trouble of being thrown about in front of everyone else.

But no, the ambulance dudes just drop him off with me...and now what the hell do I do with him? Tell him to take a seat? Wheel him into a corner and try to hide him behind the plant? Leave him in the middle of the room to be gawked at like an artefact in the museum?

I can't help but think that the UK is a little more PC crazy than the US...so what do you do?

If you're me, hide and hope a nurse will fix things with her magic wand.