You look friendly enough, but I'm onto your game, Mr. Blood Drop
I let you drain my lifeblood, and all I got was this stupid t-shirt? Okay, so. I got this new job, and it so happens that one of my new co-workers is a somewhat crazed lunatic about getting people to donate their blood. Working in a hospital, opportunities to be abducted by said co-worker and coerced into forfeiting my more valuable bodily fluids are numerous and unavoidable. It seemed like a worthy, if vaguely terrifying thing to do, so I failed to "just say no" to this particular peer pressure. Also, I'm thirty years old and have no idea what my blood type is, so what sane person wouldn't give up a pint of it to find out that little tidbit of information? (I'm A+ if you were wondering. Put that under your hat in case you might want to give me a kidney some day or something. I'm kidding. Or am I?)
Anyhow, as was my great fear, I suck at giving blood. All these fine folks dashing in on their lunch break, casting off a pint of blood, downing a cookie, and then off on their merry way just as right as rain? I am not like those people. I'm the sad sack that makes a scene by almost getting sick and almost passing out. Sure everybody was really nice and nobody let me bonk my head on a sharp object and my co-worker, the closet "Donate life!" recruiter girl, kept me company for the overlong time I was there basking in my lightheadedness and vague sense of humiliation, but the experience was none too pleasant. I hope those three people that can apparently benefit from my blood are enjoying it, because I'm kind of missing it, and the free t-shirt, comfy and oversized as it may be, is no pint of blood.
So, that Tuesday night I retired to my bed exhausted from the work of regenerating my lost pint of blood when along came my next adventure...
Close encounters of the bat kind. Because who, when busy regenerating their lost vital bodily fluids, doesn't love to wake up at 2:30 AM to find a bat (!!) flying around their bedroom? Okay, I'm generally not among the super easily frightened, but if the prospect of having a bat bodily collide with you while it's swooping unpredictably around your bedroom in the middle of the night doesn't drive you to scream and scramble into the bathroom where you slam the door and exhale as if you've just escaped being tortured by one of the sicker serial killers to grace Criminal Minds, what will? (Actually escaping a sick serial killer, you say? Oh pshaw). So, here it is 2:30 in the morning...3:30 in the morning...bat has disappeared...but to where? Three hours of sleep, combing every inch of my bedroom in search of the bat with the amount of tension usually reserved for turning the crank on one of those infernal jack-in-the-boxes, and no bat to be found = not a great way to recover from being a sucky blood donor.
Next night, repeat, only at 1:30 AM, and this time I figure I've discovered batty's entrance and exit point. I jam the hole temporarily with old socks. I take to Twitter at 2 AM to congratulate myself on a battle won and use up my stock of creative hash tags. I am the winner!
Don't look so smug, Twitter chump.
Next night. Nope, I'm a big loser. Discover the bat fluttering around my window before going to bed. Feel bad about possibly killing him when he's probably really great at eating stupid bugs. Pin him between inside window and outside screen, and talk my dad into pulling the screen up an inch so the bat can escape and do his batty thing in nature. He does. I find a creative use for rolls of pennies, which are decidedly more sturdy than old socks. I may have won the bat battle, but I've lost the bat war. Everything that moves startles me. Awesome.
And in the meantime...
Oh HAAAIIILL no! That's right, big freak hail storm decimates the expansive parking lots of my workplace. This is even scarier when your employer ran out of real office space a few departments ago and you're gawking out the window of your office trailer during a tornado warning. Golf ball to baseball sized hail fell from the sky for a frighteningly long time making my car look like this...
When hailstones attack....
Thankfully, it didn't look like this (which a lot of people's did):
...they can be really big meanies.
But that doesn't mean I'll be spending any less time on the phone dealing with insurance claims.
In the mean meantime. I have too many teeth. And it's starting to become really, very unpleasant. The writing on the wall says, "Megan, you are about to become likethis with your dentist," and that is a prospect that frightens me (and my bank account) to no end.
All that, and I just last evening finally committed the "meh" book I was reading to the DNF pile, and discovered (much too late) an e-mail about a giveaway win in my spam folder, so even books have not been able to suitably lift my spirits this week.
Anyhow, that's my week from hell. How was your week?