Yesterday I dragged my jet-lagged ass back to work, after two glorious weeks on the soft underbelly of the planet.
Service isn't too bad right now, only 16 on the board and we actually shrank despite 6 admits overnight, but it still is work. I have 73 more days (10 weeks of work + 3 days of clinic at the end) to knock back, actually now 71 since I have worked 2 days. Not that anybody is counting. In some sense I don't know what I'm looking forward to, because it's just more work after the Big Move. Just different work, in a different place, without fewer shooting galleries and vacants and pit beef sandwiches.