Look Ma, No Bile!

Check me out, being all positive and stuff.

Good news - the cold has moved firmly into my chest, meaning that my doctor was correct. Isn't it great that I have such a smart doctor? And no more sore throat, so that just an extra added bonus. Ok, so the coughing fits kept me awake most of the night and I have had little or no voice all day, but I sound all sexy and hoarse like Kathleen Turner or some more socially relevant sexpot with a two-pack-a-day habit! And cold medicine - a social acceptable way to feel drunk, so that's cool.

Humorous dog news - The gathering yesterday was held at a house with a in-ground pool and no fence. Lucy loves this pool and is in and out of it dozen of times when we visit in the summer. "But Pam," you'd say, "the water is certainly much too chilly for Lucy to want to swim now? And besides, the water has that greenish tinge, she has more self-preservation then to swim is a swamp, right?" Little do you know, my gentle reader. Lucy ignored the pool for a good 10 minutes then just had to have a little dip. Nothing like a wet, shedding dog to enliven a sunday afternoon christmas cookie feast with friends. And she didn't turn green, so good on her!

And work is better then ever! All the decision makers are in DC, begging the FDA to not kick us out on our glucose meter asses and yet, did they leave any instructions on what to do while they're gone. Of course not! That would just be insulting to our leadership skills. They have perfect faith in us and the fact that we will have kept all research and studies going forward, posthaste. Even without those pesky key details like "Where are the devices we are supposed to use" and "What do you mean they haven't been built yet? The study starts tomorrow!" It gives me such a warm fuzzy to know they have such trust in all us peons and that absolutely no blame will be forthcoming when the study goes down in predictable flames.

And I learned something new today. When a complete asshat arrives at my office door and says he need to do something on my computer this instant, I am perfectly capable of saying "No" and "You'll just have to come back when I'm less busy". And that I am capable of biting my tongue and not shouting "This is for Rita!" and kicking him in no-doubt undersized and impotent junk.

And now I get to take some of that nifty non-non-drowsy cold medicine and fall into an 8-hour coma. Life just can't possible get any better!

I'm like a frickin' Pollyanna over here.



(Disclaimer: The above items were, in reality, no worse than other, similar instances that have happened on other, similar occasions. The author is choosing to elaborate said items in order to successfully "poke fun", as it were, at her life in a vein some may consider sarcastic. And they would be correct about this consideration. No actual Pollyanna's were hurt, or even mildly inconvenienced, during the construction of this document. If in fact, such a creature as a Pollyanna does actually exist. Which I don't believe they do. Because some grumpy, pessimistic individual would have shot them all by now for being so damn chipper.)