Dear friends, you know I hate complaining, (blatantly untrue) but my job is really hard. It's someone might keel over and die halfway through my shift hard. And if one of my patients croaks I don't get the rest of the night off. You would think that would be a given. So my mental health is being put to the test these days. So far, I haven't had to curl into the fetal position in the supply closet or smear feces on any walls. But I'm considering it.
On that note, check out the fabulous bling I'm currently smitten with! If Chef Husband doesn't read my mind (or my blog) then I'm buying it for myself.
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