The routine is the same every time I am scheduled to work. I wake up and dread the call that tells me where I am to report. I get the call and I rush around getting ready. I walk to work trying to clear my head with tunes blasting from my Ipod. I walk slower each time hoping that the hospital has somehow by miracle been mover or better yet has been destroyed by a well placed bomb, but my luck is never that good.
I arrive at work and find the floor where I have been sentenced. Usually within the first two hours I am texting home begging to quit! By hour four I am calling home begging to quit, but the answer is always NO!! The Bitch!!
We have compromised. I now have until December and can quit then. December seems hundreds of years away. Twenty-four weeks! I will never ever last that long. I proposed yet another compromise. In this one I will work in the vile evil hospital until September and do a travel assignment following that. I would end up being free and clear by the second week of December and we plan on taking a long holiday and maybe spend New Years back home.
In one scenario I have 24 weeks left and in the other only 12 weeks. I am hoping she caves in and lets me go!!
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