Bad Days

I've had some bad days as an optometrist. Some really bad days.

Patients yelling.

Staff glaring.

Patients glaring.

Staff yelling.

Busy.

Slow.

Confused.

Saturday was one of those days. But I don't know why. It wasn't particularly busy (20 patients for full exams, five or so for miscellaneous junk). I didn't get yelled at or about. I received very few glares. It was just a difficult day made worse by a complete lack of desire to be here.

We don't like it here Sam I am.

Not a bit.

Not a little.

Not a lot.

Not at all.

It is time to move on. From Saturday at 7pm to Monday at 5 pm we are relatively happy people but as the fact that we have to return to work on Tuesday begins to sink in early Monday evenings the dread starts.

From Swell's long drive and staff that hate her to my just hating working at a mall and seeing walk-in after walk-in our work weeks are killing us.

Why can't work be fun? We went to school for a long time. We demand fun.

Instead we get no fun.

We hope that Nome is fun.

They were supposed to have purchased our tickets at the end of last week. We approved the flights and they were supposed to buy them.

I hope they did.

If they didn't...

We've given our notice here and are ready to go.

We hope to be challenged professionally.

We hope to learn optometry.

We hope to learn about others.

We hope to experience Alaska.

We hope our plane doesn't crash.

Swell's Ma is coming to visit this weekend. Every couple of weeks her schedule works out in such a way that she has four or five days off in a row. She can fly cheap so she is coming to see us. While cleaning for her arrival I came to the conclusion that somehow we have too much stuff. We have so much stuff we don't have enough room for it.

Now remember that a lot of it isn't our stuff. It is stuff for Romania. Swell has a dream. Her dream is to fill four suitcases of stuff for others and take our clothes and the like as carry ons. In the meantime the stuff multiplies, much like the stereotypical rabbit, and accumulates in our rather small condo.

We trip over stuff.

We sit on stuff.

We push stuff aside to clear but a little room to walk.

I exaggerate of course, but suffice it to say there is Romania stuff on top of stuff we need to part with.

Thats one good part of moving.

Purging.

I'm semi-proud of us for purging much of our optometry school notes. They are now in a landfill somewhere near Nablus.

I'm semi-proud that we purged clothing upon our return 6 months ago. They are now in a Goodwill somewhere (or in someone else's closet).

We now need to do some more purging. If we're going to sell our place it can't look like its bursting at the seams. We have too many sheets and blankets.

We have too much Christmas stuff.

I have too many books and CDs.

The time to start purging nears.

And then packing to move...

I hate packing.

I'd rather work here than pack.