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Whoops, sorry, I'm post-call. - Nobody wears a white coat any more...
...a tribute to becoming a doctor.
ayradyss
ayradyss
Whoops, sorry, I'm post-call.
It's not an excuse, or a mantra, or anything of the sort. It's a statement of fact.

"Whoops, sorry, officer, I know there are ten people dead," Joe says, "But I'm post-call."
"Oh, that's all right, then," Jim says. "Go on and get some sleep."

Someone was post-call when they made my elective preferencing form, I think...
Showing here.

Got my notes done, chatted with the old lady who's now back on a face mask and we think might be chronically hypoxic. Went and checked in...and out. Was home and to Curves and home again before noon, obviously, and now I'm going to take a shower, eat lunch, and play some Final Fantasy or Black&White.

Jen, my chronically high Virtual Adept, has a Hunted background and a horror of being abandoned. Angel was a wicked GM and used a bit of Mind magic and a closed-circuit TV to make sure that she got to see her boyfriend sleeping with his ex before he got shot. He conveniently waited until she was in fulminant withdrawal from her former drug of choice and therefore unable to do magic without a +12 difficulty before doing so. Poor Jen. She's practically catatonic now.
And Angel feels so evil for doing it. Good.

This Friday will be my last Friday off of RP, and therefore Jen can be rescued from her Jen-napping soonish, and can get down to the business of being suicidal or vengeful or both. I've much missed roleplaying with the group - the company and the fun of trying to make something believable happen between the characters. I miss you all. I can't wait for March.
Tomorrow I should have my core clerkship assignments in my mailbox. Then I can get down to the nitty-gritty of scheduling electives and Boards and all that jazz.

now feeling:: dirty dirty

whisper a word