Tales from the ER

There's nothing like a Saturday afternoon in the emergency room:

The quality television programming. Today's choices -- Groundhog's Day or The Backyardigans.

The cast of lovely individuals in the waiting room. The mother who used more four letter words with her child than a taxi driver in rush hour. (I'm adding her to my list that includes IKEA, Kathy, and that rude woman who cut in front of me in the grocery store the other morning.) The hipster that sliced his wrist with a cake knife on his birthday. (And, who proceeded to make out with his girlfriend while she kept his bloody hand elevated.) The Russian that almost started an ER brawl after making a derogatory comment to an elderly Jewish man in a wheel chair. The woman who in reaction to her son telling her she was going to be a grandmother threw her fists in the air and yelled "YESSSSSS!" (I kind of imagine Graham's reaction to be similar when Becca tells him the good news.)

The fresh scent of disinfectant and stale coffee.

The ample time to consider important life issues. Including, but not limited to my favorite type of cereal, the title of my first novel, how realistic Grey's Anatomy is and the weird scar I have on leg from an unfortunate flat iron incident a few weeks ago.

But, in all seriousness, Whitney is still alive. Her right kidney is being a big, fat jerk, but it's nothing a little time and some really strong pain meds won't fix. I'm not sure how much help I was today, but I was happy to be there for moral support. Plus, I'm pretty sure I earned some roommate karma. And, frankly, you can never have enough of that.