I found my keys.
First of all, I should tell you, I lost them. Which might not have been so bad, if it weren't for the second time this week. The first time I lost them the office staff was in such an uproar that I didn't have the heart to tell them that I had lost them again.
I mean, for a set a missing set of keys, there was a lot of drama in the office. I might have well told them that my children had been abducted by a terrorist cell and gotten the same response.
"I can't find my keys," I mentioned to the receptionist, more annoyed than anything.
"You can't find your keys?" "Well, where are they?" "When did you have them last?" "What do they look like?" Everyone was hurling questions at me. I felt like I was being interrogated. Next thing I knew everyone was looking for my keys. Even the doctors.
"I'm sure they'll turn up," I tried to tell them. But every few minutes someone else would come into my office and ask"did you find them yet?", all stressed out like.
No, I would answer.
"Well, don't worry, we'll find them," they would say. "We're all gonna keep on looking."
And then it occurred to me that I had lent my keys to another nurse, who wasn't there that day, and was, in fact, only ever there on Thursdays. "It's Janice,!(say her name is Janice, I won't use her real name on this blog, because of libel)" I said. "She has them! I'll just get them from her on Thursday."
And I thought that would be the end of that.
But oh, no. Couldn't be that easy. The doctor calls me into his office. "I have Janice's direct line in here somewhere," he says, looking through a bunch of papers. "You should phone her right away." Now never mind that she has this big wig job where she works for the head of infectious disease or something like that.
"Well, I would certainly hate to bother her," I began.
"No. It's not bothering her. You need those keys." He gives me the number. I slink off with the number weighing heavily in my hand.
"Did you call?" the receptionist asks me about ten minutes later.
"Nah," I reply. "I figure I'll just wait a little while. See if they turn up around here."
"Well, I'll call," she replies, indignant.
She leaves a threatening message. "We know you have Randines keys and we want them back."
And then, about an hour later, I found the keys.
"Could you please tell Janice to disregard your last message," I said sheepishly. "I had the keys all along."

So then imagine my dismay when a mere few days later I find my keys missing from their usual locale once again.
This time, I tell myself, I tell no one. No one. I'll initiate a solo covert operation to retrieve my keys. Which turns out to be a bit tricky. I'm shuffling through things in the records room, trying to appear non chalant. "Hmm. I never really looked at this basket full of paper clips before," I say, as I empty the contents. "I mean, it's good to know where to find the paper clips, if your ever in a pinch, right?"
And then when I have to use the washroom (our bathrooms are kept locked), I have to try to sneak a key from someone else on the sly. Asking for keys would create talk. Speculation. Gossip. "I think Randine lost her keys again," they would say. "She had to borrow mine to go the bathroom." "Ya," the other receptionist would chime in. "I saw her rifling through a bunch of stuff at the reception desk." "How could she lose them again? I mean, once I could see. But twice??" they would ponder. "I think she drinks," they would say, based on what, I don't know, but people talk, you know. "Big time," the other receptionists would all nod in agreement. "Big time."
And then I accidentally let it slip to my boss. My boss of all people!! "Can you open the vaccine room for me?" I asked her, because she was standing near the door, keys in hand, dangling them in front me like that. "I think mine may be kind of lost," I say when she gives me a 'and where are your keys young lady? kind of look.
She looks alarmed. "You lost your keys?" "What do you mean?"
"OH, they're not lost, really." I fumbled. "They're just... not... anywhere where I can see them ...at the moment." She looked skeptical.
"But they're somewhere," I conclude enthusiastically. "I mean, they've got to be, right?"
She still looked skeptical.

So when I saw those keys in a jumble full of autoclave supplies, let me tell you, I was pretty happy.
Anyways. Other than that, lately quite a few people that I know have had common colds. And I'm not sure if it's because I'm a nurse or what, but lately these said people have felt compelled to give me graphic and detailed descriptions of their cough, mucous, phlegm, other bodily fluids.
I can always tell that I'm in for it when it starts out "It started with..."
I brace myself, knowing that I'm going to get the blow by blow. "It started with a tickle in my throat, for about a day or two. And then it started to feel more like scratchy. And then my nose was all plugged up, and I tried taking eccinachea," they would say- to which I would think- ecchinacea?? I wouldn't bother with that herbal junk. Go for the good stuff-- Advil Cold and Sinus--.- "and I tried some tea with lemon, but it wasn't going away, although it did help I think to get things draining, because then my nose started running, which is annoying, because it's running a LOT, but at least it's draining, you know."
"Ya," I would say, disinterested like. Somehow they would take this as wild enthusiasm and continue on. And on and on. And meanwhile all I'm thinking about is "Where the hell did I put those keys?"
Anyways, long story short-- if you have a cold-- simply telling me that you have a cold is good enough. I do not need to know the precice amount or quality of snot that is coming out of your nose.
That is all for now.
Have a good day.
Thanks for reading.