The Graveyard Shift

Didn't Stephen King write a book about this? If not he certainly should have. I can be his main character, probably possessed and, more than likely, murderous. Why anyone would put themselves through this willingly on a regular basis escapes me.

I currently have a wonderful opportunity to spend one full week of nights at work. Granted I do work in a hospital and I understand people are sick 24/7 but truthfully most of them are sleeping peacefully after 1 am. Occassionally, we get the midnight admit but rarely are they interesting until they are truly diagnosed by the morning staff. Then I find out they had been running down the street naked in 17 degree weather. I miss these stories. Here I get to see the patient come in give him a bit of Haldol but the true story is not dispensed until I hear why the patient required the Haldol. I do all the work and the day shift gets all good stories. Ah, but the night is boring.

I am normally a morning person. When I get home at 8:30 am I don't know whether to sleep or go sailing. I cannot get to bed because I think I should be getting up. (Not to mention the crazy man in my house who sleeps alone while I am not there has opened all the windows in the house. Did I mention is was 17 degrees, not Celcius either.)

Closing all the windows, I pick up the newspaper and turn on the morning talk shows. You truly do not realize how perky these people actually are until you have two functioning brain cells. AM talk show host have only one. Yesterday, I watched two people oogle over a man cooking hot dogs. True story. I love a good hot dog but I cannot see the extreme glee expressed by the NY Fox contingent over these wonderful little tubes of nitrates. Maybe it was the relish.

Finally, I crawl into my freezing bed in attempt to get some sleep. Nothing makes your mind race like falling asleep while most of the world arises. You think of all the things you need to get done while you have the entire day to yourself. Conversations you need to have, phone calls you should make, reading to catch up on, bills to pay, dry cleaning to pick up. All of this planning to no avail. Eventually, you will fall asleep and forget all the best laid plans. Your laundry remains unwashed, the dishes, undone, the phone calls or emails forgotten in the throws of the deepest sleep.

I spend the bulk of the day oscillating between sleeping and waking. I try to get some sleep. I avoid the gym and anything else stimulating for fear of being too awake that I cannot get enough sleep to make it through the night, rather the day.

Eventually, another night comes and as I head to work, I panic that I did not get enough sleep. I know I will be fine until 1 am. I can even coast until 2 or 2:30. Then the deepest night comes. Most of my work is done, most of the patients asleep at last. It is 4 am. The clock does not move. My mind and my body fight to keep awake. Who knows if I were to doze off, how long it would take me to become alert or coherant again.

So I fight all night until I see the breath of dawn. I know relief will come soon. I will survive to see another night or another day again. I know that at the end of this seven day stretch I will have mastered this sleeping thing . Just in time to return to my true life. The life of the 9-5 ers or 8-4ers as it is for me.

I am Steve Job's target audience

My imaginary boyfriend is the Apple store genius both in West Palm Beach and the Fifth Ave NYC store. Lucky my true boyfriend is not the jealous type. I love people who have the anwers to all my problems. I always walk away happy albiet with a lighter wallet.

While I was not first online to buy my iphone, I love it. Thank you Mr Jobs for making the new 3G tempting but satiating me with free upgrades. I don't think I would arrive at any appointments without it. Nor would find my way. I have lived in NYC for 5 years but still don't know which subway will take me where, save the trains that take me to Yankee and Shea Stadium/US Open. I also believe I have mastered the "red lines" in Manhattan only. Without the maps application how could I possibly find Bloomingdale's and why in hell do they keep moving it.

My latest date with a genius involved the repair of my 13 year old niece's 4 year old ipod. God knows what a teenager can do to an ipod but hers is revived and perhaps the music can be saved, although looking at the playlist I am not certain this is at all necessary. I imagine she was hoping for a new ipod, a touch or an iphone, however, the genius has saved me a pretty penny. The Apple salesperson however is satan personified.

Happily leaving the mecca that is the apple store, I decide my 8 year old ipod may be worth the 10% discount on the trade in. Although it served me well, it looks like it have been run over by a truck. For the trade in, I was able to get a 4 G nano to run with. Not a fan of the Nike running shoe, I am intrigued by the capability of the shoe to track my miles. I will be sure to post come January when I finally figure out how to use it. And while most people are awaiting the iphone capabilities to work with other phone services, I am waiting for Steve Jobs to recognized other running shoes.

I used my nano for the first time at the gym yesterday. It is tiny. I hope it can survive the one or two or twenty times I will probably drop it in the next few weeks. I then I hope to be used to it. Love it. Love the shuffle. Love not being interrupted by phone calls or tempted to check the Yankee score. Admittedly, the iphone did come to the gym because I needed to make calls on the way back from the gym.

So, did I need to buy the nano and the running supplements? No probably not but once I figure it out, watch out, I will be a woman possessed. And I get to post my ipod most recently played which my phone would not allow. Ahhh, progress.

Waiting for Godot (UPS man)

I wish Estragon & Vladamir were here to entertain me.

Sitting waiting for the UPS man to deliver my package which, if I do not receive today, I will have to track down to the UPS service location which is somewhere no one should ever have to go. Some desolate area on the west side of midtown where you would be in frightened to wander after dark, even in this post Guilani/Bloomberg "safe" NYC.

Cannot help but question was it is I am getting that requires a signature. A package with my NYC marathon entrance material? Is there a large theft of these items? If there is, God bless you. You run, I be sitting at the bar on first avenue.

Just the thought of that barstool makes me more than willing to surrender my hard earned marathon number. I could spend the entire summer lounging, drinking margarita's, eating everything I want and getting fat. On second thought, I suppose I will wait since I do have to wear a bathing suit this summer anyway.

To make matters worse, I am sitting here in my sweaty gym clothes. I thought the elusive UPS man might be here on the early side, it being a summer Friday and all. I raced home from the back to back training classes at the gym, yes the run back intensified my sweat and my odor. Now I sit basking in my own scent.....

But wait, what is that? The doorbell rings at last!!!! It is him!!!! I cannot wait to greet him in his gorgeousl bown uniform. Farewell for now as I run to meet him midway on the stairs to shorten my impatient waiting.