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I’ve been tagged to be weird by Dr. Benton Quest
I always do what a doctor tells me to do.

1 – all water has to be recycled, either down the drain or on the ground; never trapped in a bottle going to the dump.
2 – while I am very comfortable in a naked situation (spa, club, beach etc.) I don’t wear short pants as I am vain about my legs.
3 – certain CDs are played on certain days/seasons. Jethro Tull is an ‘autumn’ CD; some Inuit chants are for January; Bing Crosby’s Merry Christmas is for Christmas Eve Day.
You get the picture.
4 – photos of tarantulas send me into a panic/phobic attack.
5 – blood and gore while working in an ER doesn’t faze me; but I can’t watch it on screen in a movie.

6 – My brain has a direct connection with Eartha Kitt Ms. Kitt likes to channel through me to sing songs not in her usual repetoire. Spontaneous Eartha Kitt singing drives Someone nuts.


Warning; this is a kvetch entry…

I am going to an office Christmas party this weekend.
I am not looking forward to this.

From a psychiatric point of view, the “holidays” should be banned like asbestos. Both are hazardous to mental/physical health. Between November and early January I deal mostly with people depressed or unhappy about their situations at this time of year. It is a very busy and stressful time in my field. A ‘good Christmas’ means no one kills themselves.

In times past I have weaseled out of most of these office events by conveniently scheduling concerts or away trips on the proposed night. But this year I goofed; the tickets for “Doubt”are on the 8th, not the 9th as I thought. I had no excuse when asked by the bosses would I come.

Working relationships get a bit confused and giddy in social gatherings, particularly if cocktails are involved. It’s even worse with a bunch of people trained to observe and analyze what is being said and not said. We are supposed to ‘let our hair down’ some but I’ve seen the consequences of the fools who did. Not pretty. I still remember the drunken resident schmoozing with the Head of the Department in the University of Chicago Department Office Party. The horror.

Don’t poop where you eat.

Perhaps I am merely embarrassed that after a year working here I still don’t know people’s names. I don’t see or interact with staff other than the receptionists (these too come and go. Just as I get to know their names they rotate/move on). I suspect I will look foolish as I introduce Someone to the woman whose office is next to mine and say ‘I forgot your name, could you tell me again?”.

By not wanting to go, perhaps I am acting out some resentment towards the clinic. I have never worked so hard as at this place. The Burger King pace and the long hours made 2006 a weary year. Spending my free time with the clinic doesn’t sound appealing.

Ah well, stiff upper lip and try to make the best of it……

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