My day can be summed up in one phrase: “a mouse ran by my feet this afternoon.”

Those of you who know me know my overwhelming fear and loathing and disgust of mice. I’m completely unable to deal with them – I can’t help the shriek and jumping to higher ground. I can’t. It’s worse if I’m feeling exposed in some way – and today, I was wearing a knee-length skirt and shoes that were open in the back. I know it’s irrational and they can’t hurt me, but I was right behind my mother when she stepped on a mouse and I can still remember the sound that it made. And I’m still haunted from reading “The Long Winter” by Laura Ingalls Wilder and reading how Pa woke up from a dream of going to a barber and found a mouse chewing off his hair. *shudder*

The thought of going back to the hospital tomorrow … the day after … three weeks … knowing that not only do I have to deal with the smell (which has gotten exponentially worse since the first day), but I have to worry about the scurrying gray bringers of plague, has seriously made me consider finding some horrible disease to contract so I don’t have to go in.

*sigh*

The day had started out well, with the chance to round with the neurology resident and the cool consults she had. I was excited.

Man, ignorance is bliss.