"I have bed sores!"

Shawn has a MRI tomorrow, and an appointment with an orthopedic something-or-another. He's all upset because he'll lose his overtime when he start his on-call Friday. Not that we depend on it, but it's good money. If he can't start his call on Friday the rotation will be switched up and with the way it was originally, it looked like he was going to miss Thanksgiving and Christmas. I hope his knee is better by Friday. Don't want him on-call for Christmas. God knows Christmas is gonna be funky enough with our family at each other's throats.

I need Shawn this Christmas.

"Shawn, you need to rest your knee," I say.
"But I have bed sores and I'm BORED!" He's not very good at sitting either.

We had the meeting this morning and it wasn't really a chewing out. Safety for summer, no cell phones during working hours, that sort of thing. Allan was discussing how everyone needs to take home their left overs before it gets rank. He opens the fridge and says, "There's a LOT of food in here!"

I glance at Martha and we fight to keep from laughing. I had about 500 smart aleck remarks ready and loaded and I think she sensed it. "We like to eat, what do you want?" I piped up and Martha just lost it. Kind of a like an in-church, don't laugh moment.

What, like we're all a bunch a fat cows and need to eat less? Ok, so there are a few who shall remain nameless that let food and skanky dishes sit in the fridge.

Not me though. I got a V8 and a couple bottles of water.