If I never see another snowflake in my life, I think I will be okay with that. I had a busy, wonderful weekend last week. A quick trip to North Carolina, and a night of good music here in Atlanta. Travel, hotels, airplanes, late nights. It all sounds good until your boss calls you on your “recovery day.” And asks that you come into work and spend the night because they are worried that people won’t be able to drive in the next morning due to the weather. I accept the fact that I have chosen a profession that requires that I work on holidays and snow days. I have never missed work due to weather. However, I was agraid that if I did not go in and sleep at work that I would be iced in for the first time ever, and I did not want to be unable to get to the hospital after declining their wonderful offer. So I went to work and spent the night in the auditorium. On a cot. I texted photos to a few people and TWO of them said it looked like a morgue. One friend with a macabre sense of humor, okay, but if TWO people said it then it really sucked, right? I worked 12+ hours instead of my usual 8. They didn’t cancel surgeries, and we were busy because none of the patients ready for discharge could go anywhere because of the freaking snow. I spent the second night at a co-worker’s condo very close to the hospital. It was blissful compared to the auditorium, but it still was not home. When the alarm went off I wanted to cry. However, I did not cry, I went back to work and put in another 12+ hour day. At the end of it, I pointed my little car towards my house and drove 20 mph all the way home. It wasn’t pretty, but I made it. I was scheduled to be off on Wednesday by the grace of baby jesus or something. (Actually, it was because my 70yo father’s rock band was supposed to have a gig Tuesday night–another story for another day.) I got to my house about 8:30pm. I was too revved up to go to sleep until after 1am. When I finally slept, I did so for nearly 30 hours–waking briefly to pee, eat, and let the dog out. I was tired and stressed, and not fit for human consumption–or company–or something.
Back to work today, thankfully for just my usual 8 hrs, and the fact that tomorrow is Friday makes me nearly delirious with joy.
Don’t all my damn-yankee friends start with the baloney that we can’t handle snow down here. The problem is that our cities and counties do not own eleventy-seven (or however many it takes) snowplows, graders, salt/sand trucks–and we shouldn’t. It would be a waste of an investment for something that would be used every 12-15 years. Kinda like people up there having cars and homes without air-conditioning and other things we would consider unthinkable down here.
I really am not nearly as bitter as this rant might sound–just tired, tired and more tired. I really wish I was posting about my friend playing “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay” at the request of a man in the front row “because his dad passed recently and it was his favorite.” No pressure, there, huh? Said musician friend not only played it–but fucking killed it…and later said he hadn’t played it “since the 80’s.” It was a beautiful thing to witness. Thinking of that and other moments from the weekend got me through the week.