I think I forgot to bracket Sean and S. And much bracketing for juliana.
God, I hate those. "Ma'am, your goiter sounds completely fascinating, but 1) I don't care and 2) It's fucking gross. Now, can I help you with something?"
Just one part of the what seemed like hour and a half phone call went like this.
Me: When can you come in?
Her: Well I don't know because I've been under the weather you can probably hear my voice right now I think I caught it going out to that class last Saturday because it was soooo windy and it was early in the morning so I'd just washed my hair and I think that got me sick I went to the doctor yesterday maybe day before yesterday no wait it was yesterday because day before yesterday was Sunday and I couldn't have gone then wait what's today oh thats right its Wednesday so it could have been day before yesterday and anyway he said I may have an upper respiratory infection but whatever it is it feels awful with the rattling cough and I think I have a fever....
I don't know what she said after that because I shot my face off.
Hee. She's such a big shot, all verbal and whatnot. I loved Jilli's LJ entry about Lillian taking her over to the computer and demanding, "Lion. Grrrwl." So. Cute.
Last time we checked, S's fever had finally dipped below 101. Mine was under 100 last time I checked.
Actually, my biggest worry right now, other than S not getting too sick, is how contagious I'll be tomorrow, when I have to be at work again. I
really
don't want to give this to anyone else, certainly not the actors or other crew as that could just kill the closing weekend.
In good news, I have a date on Saturday. For once, it is not with a lumberjack with issues. Rather, it is with a former punk rocker who now makes wine. He most likely has issues, though. Wine-soaked punk issues.
YAY date with wine-soaked punk!
BOO fevers and sick!
Hey Sean. I hope you both start to feel better soon.
Wine-soaked punk issues.
That is sooooo San Francisco.
Ayy, poor Hec.
If it's any (thin, translucent, barely-there) consolation at all, I get a painful number of those woolgathering monologue phone calls too, but mine usually end, several years into the call, with the caller saying, "So, what I need to know is if it's okay, if the doctor wouldn't mind, if I could possibly get your fax number." It's the cruellest possible punchline to the world's lamest shaggy dog joke.
My fun phone call today was having to break the news to a parent that her beloved daughter had unintentionally plagiarized (don't ask--way too tired to explain it) her final exam and therefore had flunked it. Do I win for crappy calls? For today anyway?
Drew, sweetie, so much sanity~ma to you. I know waiting is making you crazy (it's making me crazy too), and I hope the call comes soon.
Ayy, poor Hec.
Why? What happened to me?
::checks for thalium::
