About 45 minutes ago I called work to see if anyone had made it in yet, got our little faux-MILF receptionist, and told her, "Fuck it! I'm not coming in." Now, really, I could have been outside at 9 am clearing snow (so my psycho dad wouldn't do it while I was at work), then come back in to shower, then trudged to the bus stop to wait for a bus that might or might not come, only to make it to work to find out my afternoon patients (which is all I have on Mondays) all cancelled, but doesn't "fuck it" sound like the better option? I can't exactly remember the last time I called into work, but I'm pretty sure it was January 2005. Unlike, say, our office manager who was out three days last week with "strep throat" or one of our docs who was out the better part of a week recently with that stomach thing, 'cause she's got so many pre-existing conditions that every virus is an adventure, or everyone else who's always leaving in the middle of the day because daycare/the babysitter/school called. So I refuse to feel guilty.
Except, you know by my saying that, that I do feel guilty. My parents raised me to be Responsible and Reliable and Hardworking (which is a good thing, because given my well-documented natural tendencies towards sloth, can you just imagine the Cheeto-eating, video-game-playing, unemployment-collecting couch dweller I'd be otherwise?) but sometimes I wish I could turn that off at will.
Discuss with me your own moments of "fuck it!" to make me feel better or, alternately, berate me for my obviously shocking irresponsibility and feed my masochism. Either one's good. Kthxbai.
xoxo
7 comments:
I'll leave it to Marilyn Monroe to enable her red-headed sister (though, come to think of it, wasn't Marilyn originally a red-head too?):
"Ever notice that 'what the hell' is always the right decision?"
I did make it to work, but I get nothing for that, since it's less than 2 miles from the house and the cats go psycho when there is an unscheduled hooman* in the house.
Mostly, I'd go for "fuck it."
*We'll have no remarks about who's in charge here. We know the answer to that now, don't we?
1.) I'm not *totally* sure I'm supposed to be taking life advice from people who OD'd on prescription drugs. But thank you for your support :-)
2.) Evil Kitty *loves* when I'm home from work. Her total uselessness extends to not even motivating me to leave the house. But thank you for your support :-)
P.S. And can I just say, I had important things to do here today after I cleared all that cement-textured friggin' snow. Not only did I watch Rosemary's Baby, which I finally actually bought, but I watched the *commentary track* to The Apartment. That's only half a step up from Cheetos and video games!
Ahem...sunny day 70 degrees..friends going to the Lake on a Saturday...me not really wanting to go work 8 hours at the hospital...amazing how fast one can come up with some sort of illness thats just bad enough to keep one away from work for a day. I had lots of stomach problems back then (really, I did) so that was an easy excuse. Throw in a low grade fever and voila! Youre too sick to take care of sick people.
Whoo-hoo, off to the lake we went! And all we did was ride all around the lake...because we were all too broke to go to any of the attractions there. I think we may have stopped at a state park for an hour or so. And Im sure there were some wine coolers drank somewhere along the way. :)
Sounds pretty boring, and not worth risking a nice job over now...about 19 years later.
Ahhh youth. :)
Hey, my Klonopin never leads me wrong!
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