I’ve been working for a couple of weeks now — that worrisome self-loathing about not providing for my little family has mostly passed. I don’t particularly love the job, but I don’t particularly hate it either. It’s a bit below what I had been doing previously in terms of complexity, but it pays the bills (or will once I start getting full-sized paychecks). In short, it’s a Bedrock can-opener job: “Eh, it’s a living.”

What I’ve been struggling with most these past few weeks has been the time before and after work. My shift starts at 3:00 PM and ends at 11:30 PM. I take the L and have to transfer trains if I want to get the closest stop to work which can add a good 30 to 45 minutes if I’m unlucky (late at night, and particularly after midnight the Brown line runs quite infrequently).

My problems are these: I cannot go straight to bed upon arriving home, but I also cannot sleep well in the daylight. Back in my previous job I’d occasionally have to work the overnight shift (11:00 PM to 7:30 AM) when the shift was emptied due to illness. Even after staying awake for something like 26 hours I still couldn’t get a good sleep in while I could see daylight. I’m not the napping type. This means I need to get myself in bed before sunrise, but I still want to get my after work, or “leisure” time in by which I mean games, blogs, cross stitch, etc.

The fervor with which I agonize over my “leisure” activities renders the use of the quote marks essential. While at work I spend copious time considering the span of time after I have returned home but before I finally give up, kick the dog off of my side of the bed, and go to sleep. Should I continue to work on that Warlock so I can get him as close to finished as possible?¹ Should I watch my recent Netflix delivery (as quietly as possible, because the wife is sleeping already)? Finish the story I started reading on the train? Keep on playing that DS game? Read some blogs? Work on my own? By the time I actually do get home whatever I’ve decided has been worked over so aggressively in my head that it seems like crystallized un-fun, but if I don’t do it, I feel guilty in some small way.

Did I mention I get a bit anxious?

I don’t think I’m terribly high strung about it, and I’m getting better. It’s not the first time I’ve worked this shift, and the feeling that the world is looking down on me for not being fully dressed before noon with regularity is passing.

And that’s it. I don’t have an ending to that little screed.

¹ In case you are considering that I have abandoned my Dragon Warrior project, fear not! I have not. I have a small backlog of creature to post yet. I’m trying to post them in order of appearance in game. My current stumbling block is the stocking of my local craft stores. I need a few colors to complete the next batch, but every time I pop in, that store just so happens to be out of stock in the very color I require.

Coming home from the L stop tonight I made a short detour for the nearest 24-hour Jewel store. The wife, you see, had no more orange juice and this task being well within my capacities I took it upon myself to fetch some. The snow had been coming down with some regularity for the better part of the evening. Several inches of powdery stuff had settled across the city. This trek was not nearly as effortless as I had imagined.

The snow gave testament that I was plodding through ground where no man nor beast had been foolhardy enough to tread for several hours. Taking exaggerated moon steps I slowly made my way across the drifts. My shoes — ill-fitted to this kind of weather — allowed my socks to become soaked. I gratefully acknowledged that it could be worse: it was much warmer than it had been the previous two nights.

Rarely one to back down from a challenge such as this I eventually made it to my destination, picked up two cans of frozen orange juice concentrate, the smallest box of cereal I could find that looked tasty, and a beer because by this point I felt I’d earned it. At this hour only one teller manned the registers: his own and the nearby self-service kiosk. Knowing I’d be carded for the beer I chose the former. It needn’t have mattered either way because the numbskulls who chose the self-service kiosk seem to have never attempted to master such a device and struggled to manage even the simplest of tasks. Unfortunately, they also brought produce.

The teller was preternaturally cheerful about the whole endeavor. I don’t know from whence he derived his good nature, but it was pretty goddamned heartwarming. When I asked him how he was doing this night he answered with gusto that he was doing “Great!” and seemed generally touched that I inquired. Truly he’s some sort of all-night grocery store saint.

Chicago, this bustling metropolis, is eerily deserted after midnight under a layer of snowfall. On certain blocks I felt as if I had the whole city to myself, having not seen a single soul in some time. Sliding across the snowdrifts in my damp shoes I could imagine, albeit briefly, being the sole survivor of a terrible holocaust. It could be quite peaceful being the last man on earth.

Gee, I hope that orange juice thaws before Staci wakes up.

Once again I’ve fallen into a bit of a torpor. My attention to the vast world of the Internets has dimmed. Every few days I start up NewsFire only to be overwhelmed by the sheer mass of new posts I’ve ignored. Typically I just mark all of them as read and close it again. I just can’t bring myself to be interested lately.

I’m going to give it another go, and try first to start with this little blog of mine. While I’d never expect to have something to post every day, I’d really hate to abandon it.

So, catch up time: Since last we spoke I did manage to secure employment. It’s a second shift position — less than ideal, but better than nothing. I start in a little over a week. I’ve gone and completed my physical evaluation, gotten another vaccination, and picked up an ID badge. I’m hoping a job brings some kind of sense of purpose.

I haven’t let the past few weeks go completely to waste. I have a few new projects to post as soon as I’ve mounted and photographed them. One of these is a particularly impressive bit of cross stitchery that has been about a year in the making (more on this later).

Most of my time, however, has been spent on Dragon Quest VIII and Super Mario Galaxy. The former I picked up some time last year without devoting much time and the latter was a Christmas gift. Both are excellent.

It hasn’t been all video games and cross stitch. My other, other out-of-work obsession has been vegan cupcakes. Here’s my latest, and prettiest batch: Chocolate Mint Cupcakes:

I suppose deep down I know it’s petty, immature, and self-obsessed to equate financial worth with self-worth, but it’s hard not to feel fairly low when you’re looking at things in a bills and food kind of way. Today’s the 18th of December. I still haven’t yet received any sort of job offer nor indication that I should expect one.

When I decided to make the move without first securing new employment I was initially timid that I might end up in this situation. Shortly before we left Virginia I was asked to interview as soon as I arrived in the city. This, I felt, was a good sign. Once I had gone through the interview and felt strongly about it, I let go of my lingering doubts. Surely, I’ll be hearing from this company soon.

“Surely,” I’ve been repeating to myself every weekday since then, “surely, I’ll hear something soon. Today, maybe.” When the business day is winding down, and the likelihood of a telephone call is diminishing I start to think that they might prefer to send something tangible by the post office. Then, once the mail carrier has come and gone I start thinking about the next day.

This is how I’ve managed to allow 36 days to pass since my first interview without realizing just how long it had been. I’ve never had to wait this long without at least knowing something. I’m fully aware that the holidays may be causing some delay, but this just feels like an awfully long time to wait.

I’ve interviewed elsewhere since then. It’s a bit farther away. Still inside of Chicago, but a pretty long trip by public transportation. Who knows? Maybe I’ll hear back from them first though.

In any case, the date of my first paycheck keeps slipping deeper into 2008. I just don’t know how we’re going to keep up with the bills and rent on one income. I really thought things would come together neatly so much faster.

Now, I just don’t know what I should have done differently, but I know that I’m feeling much more like a hindrance than an asset to this family.

My cycling test went very well this past week. I’m quite confident that I can keep this up long term. It was exciting to realize that I hadn’t moved my car in at several days the last time I got in it to run some errands too far to go by bike.

I’m in a gear shopping phase right now. I picked up a Chrome Citizen a little while back to serve as my basic transport. I’m very pleased with it after a week’s worth of commuting. It’s a very comfortable bag that feels solid. The stabilizing strap that goes under the left armpit does wonders to keep the bag where it ought to be. I tried riding with my old messenger bag and it just flopped all over and generally made the endeavor uncomfortable.

Yesterday I got a bike rack installed. I’d been considering a set of panniers, but those can be a bit spendy. Plus, they’re a bit awkward to deal with once at my destination. I’m liking the looks of the Topeak TrunkBags. They’ll clip right on and off of my new rack. I think they’d probably hold a pair of gym shoes, but I’d like to take a peek at them first.

My next big purchase probably ought to be a good rainproof jacket though. I’m really not too sure where to start for that. If I intend to keep cycling to work I’m really going to need some protection from the weather.

I started biking to work yesterday. I’ve been talking about it since I bought the bicycle back in March, but never mustered up the stones to do it until yesterday. So far, it’s been going rather well.

The distance I have to go is fairly short, no more than 4 to 5 miles at best. The traffic can get a bit dicey in spots. Crossing the busy road that leads downtown takes some time. I’m not above cheating a little and riding on the sidewalk if need be.

I’m starting to realize what a bag fetish I have. I picked up a Chrome Citizen over the weekend because I needed something comfortable. Staci has been continuing her research, and every company she looks into makes something I absolutely love too. I’m trying to figure out how badly I’ll need panniers or other carrying tools and I’m just looking way too much at way too expensive of items.

Cycling to and from work feels so much freer than driving. I feel like I could explore. If I want to stop for a minute, or peek down a street I’ve never been on, I can do that. Aside from the heat, I’ve actually been looking forward leaving work to get the chance to ride again.

Part of my job as a medical technologist at a sizable teaching hospital is that every couple of months I am required to be “on call” for a week. What this means is in the event of an illness on a stressed shift I am the go-to guy for the week. We have a circa-1995 pager and everything.

So when our soon-to-be-departed night shift tech decided to burn through some of his accumulated PTO before leaving us for good it was up to me to fill his shoes. I’ve been working the overnight shift (11:00 PM to 07:30 AM) since Sunday night. This isn’t the first time I’ve pulled overnight shifts here, but the previous time is a little fuzzy in my head tonight, along with the rest of everything else in there.

Working overnight has been interesting in a bust that cycle sort of a way. My outlook has been altered, particularly my sense of time. Lacking my daily routine it has been difficult to figure out exactly what day it is and how long it’s been since I had a regular night’s sleep. I’ve lived in a perpetually loopy sort of between phase. I’m tired, but not sleepy. It’s a bit like being high. Plus, I get to see what life is like at 4:00 AM, just about the deadest hour I can think of: it’s very quiet.

Unfortunately, tonight I’ve mostly felt like I was about to vomit. It’s gotten better, but I still feel a bit queasy. I’m certainly dehydrating myself. I should have known something was up when I found myself looking admirably at the rows of Gatorade at the gas station last night. Staying hydrated at work is tricky. I can’t have any food nor bevarages anywhere near my work areas. Getting a drink is a process. I have to remove my lab coat and gloves, wash my hands, and move to one of the “clean areas.” I suppose it could be worse, but it’s still not all that conducive to proper nutrition.

This is my last night before going back to the dayshift schedule. On my previous overnighters I stayed awake for 36 hours to ensure I didn’t awake suddenly in the middle of the night and not go back to sleep. I wouldn’t recommend it.

Eager to put a few extra dollars into my bank account — and towards our collective debt — I volunteered to work an overnight shift, which then turned into two successive night shifts but I haven’t really gotten that far. So, I’ve been here at work for about three hours now and it’s fairly slow. Not quite as slow as I imagined, but I guess I still have about five more hours to go. . .

I’m already pretty tired. This is going to be a long night.

While waiting for work to, uh, work on I was browsing Google News. Specifically, I’ve been reading the Entertainment section because I’m not particularly in the mood for “real news.” I saw this little quote from E! Online

Ponytailed crooner Bucky Covington became the talent search’s latest casualty Wednesday after his performance of Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” proved an unpopular choice with viewers.

I don’t watch American Idol. I don’t care about American Idol, thought coworkers certainly insist on continuing to talk about the show around me. I do, however, care about “Fat Bottomed Girls” and if you (American viewing audience) voted against some guy I don’t know on a show I don’t watch because he sang “Fat Bottomed Girls” then we have a problem. “Fat Bottomed Girls” is a great song. I mean, if he did it poorly then I totally understand but don’t hate on the fat bottomed girls, they make the rockin’ world go round, you know?

(Note: I also didn’t actually read the article I quoted. That’s the little excerpt from Google News. Did I mention how I don’t care about American Idol?)

Yesterday at work I was described as “disgusting.” The quality of my upbringing was also called into question. I am having considerable difficulty in shaking off these criticisms.

What happened was I went to someone for a printout. Certain people in the lab are responsible for nearly all of the written works we use in day-to-day laboratory work. Things such as worksheets and procedures and charts and tables and all manner of assorted paper bric-a-brac that makes it easier to remember exactly what is going on. So, in order to attain spare copies of such things we need to find these certain persons and request their assistance. I got the worksheet I needed, and I also got a two to three minute lecture on just how rude I am.

Admittedly, my personality tends towards withdrawn. Some might describe me as taciturn or shy. I don’t open up particularly quickly, nor do I presume to be allowed to speak casually with just anyone. It would be falsehood to describe me as a “people person.”

Does that make me rude? I would be inclined to disagree. Some of the examples of my rudeness were my disinclination toward saying “good morning” and “good afternoon.” I didn’t realize that was essential. Lots of folks don’t greet everyone they meet every time they meet them, right?

In any case, angrily lecturing me is hardly the best tactic if your desired result is for me to be friendlier to you. In fact, I think that might be exactly the opposite result. I’m doubly glad I had the day off now. Some cool down time might be precisely what I need.

The move draws ever more imminent. As does my last day of work. This has been a difficult week to stay focused. On the one hand I don’t want to leave a bad impression, and on the other hand my mind is 500 miles away (just as my heart has been for the past 7 months).

My last day is tomorrow, Thursday the 26th of May. I had intended it to be Friday, but my letter of resignation left some confusion. I really didn’t mind putting in another day, but honestly, at this point, I find it hard to care. My coworkers have put a bad taste in my mouth.

I thought I was putting in my notice at a fairly opportune time. Another tech had just been hired for my shift, albeit with some fairly different responsibilities. I thought that they would be able to transition fairly smoothly over. But, I put in my notice and another tech decided that this was a sign that it was time to depart and is heading out the door soon after. So, now they’re down two. I know I shouldn’t care, but I guess my loyalty chip is set too high and I cannot help but worry.

And worry I do. Not only about what my departure means to my former employer, whom I’m certain will be able to figure something out, but about the move itself. Have I packed enough? Do I have enough boxes? Will I be able to get it all done this weekend? Again, I know the answer is yes, but god damn, the nagging worries.

I work in the laboratory of a hospital. You know when you get some blood drawn or have to pee into a cup? Yeah, we get those fluids (among other things that can come out of a human being). Certain values are considered “critical” because left untreated they can cause any number of undesirable outcomes. In my particular section of microbiology those values are typically positive blood cultures and the occasional positive gram stain on sterile body fluids and tissues. These results, being critical, must be given to a caregiver, i.e. nurse, as soon as they are detected.

This past Thursday I had such a result. A blood culture had been flagged as positive by our instrument. When checking for bactermia a set amount of blood is withdrawn and placed in a bottle, which is then loaded into an instrument that maintains a constant temperature and agitation. As bacteria grow they produce CO₂ producing a color change in a disc at the bottom of the bottle which is read by our machine. So, depending on the organism and its rate of growth this can happen at nearly any time, but averages out to be 18-24 hours after loading most often.

I, having removed the offending bottle from the machine and done the necessary work up, check the computer to see the patient’s current location so I might call and deliver the results of my gram stain. I see that this particular culture was collected at an affiliated hospital’s ER and said patient has since been discharged. More hospital computer system jiggery-pokery is ordered, and I find that he has apparently been admitted to one of our floors. I locate the phone number and call that nursing station.

Note, I know the score. In accordance with HIPAA I’ve altered this patient’s name sufficiently to protect his privacy without significantly affecting my story. While I was at it, I also made up fake names for the nurses I spoke to as well.

Floor: 10 West, this is Williams.

Your’s Truly: Hello, this is Benjamin from the microbiology lab. I’ve a positive blood culture report on a patient I have reason to believe was transferred from the ER. I’m not sure if I’m pronouncing this correctly, but do you have a Mister “CHAY-bon” there?

Floor: No, we don’t have anyone by that name.

YT: Are you certain? Because the computer seems to indicate that. . .

Floor: Nope, no one by that name here.

YT: Okay, thanks.

Certain that I had the correct floor, I call the department that manages the patient’s in house and discharged. They know if a patient has been transferred, discharged, or admitted. I give the lady working there some information and she tells me that this patient is, in fact, on 10 West. She even gives me a room number. Armed with this information I call the floor back.

Floor: 10 West, this is Williams.

Your’s Truly: Hello, this is Benjamin from microbiology again. I just spoke with bed management and they seem to think that the patient I just called about is on that floor. I’ve been told he’s in room 21.

Floor: Oh, you mean “SHAH-bon.” I’ll transfer you to his nurse.

YT: . . .

Nurse: Yeah?

YT: Hello, this is Benjamin from microbiology. Are you taking care of Mr. “SHAH-bon?”

Nurse: You mean “CHAY-bon.”

YT: . . .