Son of a Nutcracker

Good movie night. And let's not forget when he flings himself into the Christmas tree to put the star on top after using the couch as a spring board. Ahhh, yes.

The past couple days have been good. I've been exhausted after work with all the organizing and working on long assessments that I'm HAND WRITING. I wrote an e-mail to the IT department today asking if we could have our computers updated to Windows 2007 so that we can actually open the new assessments needed for compliance with DOJ. Yes, they created a new assessment document and saved it in a format that cannot be opened on many campus computers. And THEN, when you can finally find a computer to open it, TWO OF THE FOUR UNITS I'VE BEEN WORKING ON HAVE BROKEN COPIERS, so I can never make mass copies. I have wasted so much time with piddly bullshit like that that I can hardly stand it. But. That's fine. Today I met with a couple folks and actually felt like a real social worker again. I work normally with someone who has an MA in counseling and CONSTANTLY regards herself as better than social workers. I am and MSW (Master of Social Work), and I've never understood this rivalry of counselors versus social workers. It makes me feel shitty and second guess myself, and today it felt GOOD to be away from that negativity and feel like I was helping someone again. One of the patients I worked with was admitted because he had actually tried to shoot himself in the head - pointed a shotgun at his head, pulled the trigger and everything. But something slipped and he shot through the bill of his hat instead. I put my finger through the hole today, just inches from his head. I hope that somehow in our long talk today I helped. Paperwork be damned.

Before I went to work I went to urgent care about my arm where after almost two hours of waiting, I talked to a doctor for less than five minutes who told me "It's either a boil or something bit you." Well holy shit, MD, that's the same thing I thought. BUT I DECIDED TO GO TO THE F'ING DOCTOR TO TRY TO NARROW IT DOWN A LITTLE. It was a train wreck. At one point just because I used the word "striation," she asked if was in the medical field. I was so stunned that just because I know a word longer than three letters, she asked me that, to which I mumbled something about being a social worker. Last, she told me to just "put some neosporin on it," and said she'd give me a script for five days of bactrim in case it doesn't go away. She then left the room, saying she'd be back with the script. But she didn't come back, and instead some nurse or maybe just a tech in scrubs came back to lead me out. I told her I had another question for the doctor with regard to MRSA and asked how this sore would have manifested itself differently if it were staff. She stared at me wide eyed, so I asked her if it would have just gotten bigger, faster, to which she answered a little too quickly "Yes, bigger, faster." Realizing, the doctor would be of no additional help, I left very, very angrily. I meant to find the OD at work today and have him look at it but forgot. If my arm explodes, someone's getting a beating with my nub. Yeah, folks, y'all want free health care? Be my guest because I can't believe the crap I (Joe) pay for (in Joe's sweat equity and pain).

This is all coming out bitchier than I had intended. I really had a decent day I guess. I did find my long lost fleece at work. Holy crap. Gone for months, I'd left it on the unit in the nurse's station. Woohoo. (I'm still washing the hell out of it as we speak.) Then, after work I came home to Sir Dexy. Whacked some tennis balls to him in the backyard in what was basically darkness. Then we did some rope pull tug of war in the house for a bit. Finally, I gave him a rawhide to work on and relaxed a bit myself. After a while, he came up and joined me on the couch. He does this thing where he pushes against me with his back legs, as if to scoot me over. WTF, right? And he groans when he does it. But this time he wouldn't stop. Finally, he came around and laid his head in my lap and passed out while I pet him. I swear I have a two year old human boy in this dog. But it makes me happy. I love him.

Mmm. Lobster. Ari?