During the work week I want to do a million different things before going to bed, and I have to force myself to get at least six hours of sleep before the alarm goes off.  Fridays I can stay up as late as Sunday night, but I end up going to bed the earliest of any other night.  Is this an aging thing?  It's not as if this was a horribly busy week at work, which might warrant tiredness.  I suppose all I can do is make peace with it and pull the covers up over my head.  Hardships!

It was a perfectly lovely day.  The sun was shining.  The grass was growing, green and strong.  The Cuyahoga river was flowing fast and furious.  The cafeteria guy gave me a super big helping of mac and cheese at lunch (I think he likes me, in that eww-gross-why-does-HE-have-to-like-me way) and my milk at breakfast was not yet spoiled.  Fantastic.  I celebrated Friday by buying three, count them THREE, new lipsticks.  And a new brand of shampoo and conditioner.  Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!  The new me is absolutely enthralled by the simple things.  Indian food for dinner -- I'm stuffed to the gills, whatever that saying means -- chicken makhani, veggie samosas and a crapload of naan. 

In unrelated news a man pooped on me today.  He didn't mean to poop on me.  These things just happen sometimes.  When I made the discovery of the poop on me, the man looked and me and I looked at him and I tried to act like being pooped on is a daily, trivial occurrence.  Which it really isn't. 

There was a code yellow drill at the hospital today (in addition to my code brown with the above-mentioned patient).  We were supposed to pretend that our department, on the fourth floor, was crumbling.  All of the administrators and various higher-ups were running around while I drank my coffee and checked my email.  Throughout the day we asked one another "Oh, are we still crumbling?"  I don't understand why we have all these drills.  If an actual disaster were to happen, I think we'd figure out what to do.  A few months ago we had a real code something-or-other; there was an accident on 271 and we were told that all the casualties were being brought to our hospital.  Word was that it was a 40 car pile up.  While all of the administrators and various higher-ups were running around, my coworkers and I discussed the unlikelihood of an actual 40 car pile up.  How stupid would that 40th car be to not realize he should brake?  I mean really.  I was slightly excited when they began bringing patients up for triage in our cardiac cath lab, but the end result was three patients who seemed more interested in getting a free hospital lunch than getting medical attention. 

Life in the hospital has been pretty dull lately.  No big scandals.  No accidental deaths.  I'll have to find things to amuse me elsewhere.  And into the weekend I go . . .