Work is what I do to convince myself that I'm not a useless human being.

I just did the math, we really only have 20 slots for RNs where I work. That means the five missing nurses leaves us with only three-quarters our maximum staff. Still, if The Director would let the one guy move to first watch and the extra nurse on third watch was willing to cover one of the relief posts we would only really need one more RN to fill out the schedule.

Unfortunately, The Director seemed to tell me that she isn't willing to let the one nurse go to first watch. Not without meeting with the supervisors at least. That meeting probably won't happen for two, maybe three, weeks. The third watch nurse will have to volunteer after notice is posted about the open positions. Even if she volunteers we have to give everyone fifteen days to bid for the post as well.

In hindsight I shouldn't have been, but I was constantly surprised by the shock supervisors expressed when I told them that with the two RNs promoting we would have five open RN positions. Every one of them was amazed. The insist that they didn't know we were so short. Except several of them were involved with encouraging two nurses to "resign" in the past three months. Two "resigning" and two promoting is four add the other who transferred to a position in Cow City and we get five. Funny how that happens.

The worst thing, and I know it shouldn't be the worst thing, is having all these people telling me to be happy or to smile or blah fucking blah. I hear this all the time. They know I don't smile and I'm not happy because I have a job that I fucking hate, but it doesn't matter to them, and usually I'll make a joke. Today, though I didn't. When told to be happy or to smile I told them no, thanks, I'd rather not. I never stuck around long enough to learn of their reaction to my comment.

I know what my problem is. I can't seem to let go of my fucking job. EVER! If I could I wouldn't have had to write that post last night at 10:30 because I kept dwelling on the bullshit going on there. Even after writing it I stayed in bed staring at the ceiling for at least twenty more minutes. Oh, yeah. Sucks.

And now all I want to do is call in sick. Call in sick tomorrow and for the rest of my life. Or at least for the 350ish hours I have saved up. Fuck them all.

I miss being able to read and actually focus on what I'm reading. I miss being able to write bits of stories to clear thoughts out of my head. I miss hearing a joke from a person or the TV and having the good feeling that comes from laughing linger for a while; now the feeling is gone before I finish smiling.