Pbbtthhh...

Work yesterday was tough; after a frighteningly slow spell last week, it seems as though disease itself had come back from vacation, willing to roll up its sleeves and dive right back into work. We responded as best we could, though an ER doctor yelled at me for not being psychic. We received blood on her patient, didn't have orders to run any tests, and stored it as we always do in that situation. Most of the time, someone puts in test orders, we run the tests, and the doctors get the results and react... however they do. From time to time, the twenty-year-old computer system we're running (MS-DOS didn't know the meaning of the phrase "blue screen of death") doesn't get the results to the doctor right away, so they call us, and we tell them. In this instance, as often happens, the computer failed to magically predict what the doctor was going to order, so the doctor decided to take it out on me. Lots of people take out their frustrations on me over the phone; ER doctors just take out their frustrations on me a lot more.

So I came home to an empty apartment. A few hours of blessed solitude, and then the roommates came home from what turned out to be a girl's night out. They felt it would be a little inappropriate to ask me to get out of the apartment right as I came home from work, so they decided to vacate to parts unknown. I am simply baffled by this decision. It is certainly not in keeping with what I've come to learn about them over the past few months. Had you asked me yesterday how they would behave in such a situation, I would promptly have replied that they would not only kick me out of the apartment, but lock and chain the door behind me, and expect me to be grateful for the opportunity to have been viewed by their real friends at all. This acknowledgement of my existence, to say nothing of my humanity, is suspicious. I can't say for certain what they're up to, but I have bought a special eye-peeler in order to keep my eyes peeled.