Well, dear blog readers, after I had so confidently stated last night that the stars were aligned, well....They rather more or less misaligned themselves. That or it was Friday the 13th, or it was just plan bad luck. I ended up behind slow pokes in the fast lane and slow pokes in every other lane. (Hey, I'll freely admit: I like to drive 75, so the 65 mph folks should stick to the slow lane!) My car started making funny noises and the maintenance light went on, so off I went to the mechanic. At 11:30, I was still at the mechanic. My poor hubby came and rescued me so that I could drive his car home and go to bed. Tonight, more traffic. Yay.
For now, at least, my two babes are asleep. I feel a little like the Queen of Thick Spit patrolling cribs waiting for the oxygenation to drop to 25% (NOT good for those of you who know anything about how your brain actually likes oxygen, and 25% isn't enough to cut it.) I'm feeling pretty good that this last time I loaded my feeding syringe, I did not spray the ceiling with milk. (Not that I've EVER been guilty of that. Ahem.) In fact, I sprayed the wall instead. I don't know what the syringe company is doing differently, but the phlanges aren't as cooperative as they used to be. That or I'm not as steady-handed as I used to be. Alas. For those of you at work, don't look in the kitchen! Or, better yet, don't stop to say hi when I'm getting milk; you might receive an unwarrented shower.
That being said, I really do love my job. And, while at moments I may appear to look incompetent, (brown spots on the ceiling aside,) I love this job. I love that what we do makes a difference, and it's extremely rewarding to help my babies grow and eventually get out of here. So, even if the stars didn't align today, it's another good night to be at work.
Time to go suction some more thick spit.
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