Bigger or Better: Life outside of Texas

Really, there are two different types of confusion: pleasant and combative. It's hard to say which kind is more amusingly frustrating. Case for Combative: The night shift report was uneventful, so I was quite surprised to go in at start of shift and find that, although he is the only person in the room, he is talking to his wife--who is apparently in the bathroom wearing a helmet. And she must have been talking back, because every once in a while he would try to clarify something she said. Really not sure how that conversation continued. But then, I can't imagine how it started either. So; Visual and Auditory Hallucinations. Cool. One of his doctors cut down the amount of narcotics he was getting, but as far as I saw it didn't help. We're trying to figure out what is going on with this man--blood cultures, urine cultures, x-ray. Good times getting those. He jerked away from the phlebotomist, he tangled himself up in wires while I tried to help him get the urine s

Mark hates when people are shown others less fortunate than they and told to feel grateful. He sees it as feeling happy that someone else is worse. --You don't like your shoes? Well, some people don't have feet! I had a thought as I was drifting off into a nap: what if those people think, "I don't have feet, but at least I don't have to buy shoes!" Which just goes to show you that you can be (un)grateful in whatever situation you are in. Earlier this week, after a morning of schoolwork (and my nap), Mark and I went to the gym and worked on our butts. Or at least he did, since he sat and rode a stationary bike; I worked off my butt, since I did the treadmill and stairclimber. [ Hahaha, I'm soooo clever ] When we came back home, I noticed as we walked up to our door that the apartment across from us reeked of turpentine, and made the entry reek too. And as soon as Mark opened the door, we found out that it made our apartment smell like a chemical plant