Monday, Monday...

Hello Gentle Readers!

I'm one of the few people who love Mondays. Why? Because I work weekends. Or rather, weekend nights. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday every single week of the year. I do this because I have a family who need me during the week and it helps cut down on some of the chaos in my house.

Technically I'm off on Sunday morning at 7:30. But, since I must sleep, I don't count it as a true day off. I usually get up in the late afternoon and do some house stuff and collapse somewhere around midnight.

Ah, sleep. I remember what that is. A whole 8 hours at night like 90% of the rest of the world. But, night shift people are different because we have to stay awake until daylight and that means every night spent in our beds is a gift.

Because of my job I also work 12 hours instead of the usual 8 or 10. It's better this way because it means more days off. More days to write my stories and run my kids everywhere and generally keep my house together. I am woman, hear me snore, uh, roar. Whatever.

I work the graveyard shift. It's called that because back in the old days a huge fear was premature buriel. People were paid to sit awake all night in a graveyard and listen for the little bells that were rigged up at each grave site. If someone was buried prematurely, then they could wake up, ring the bell, and get to rejoin the world of the living.

Of course, during modern times that never happens. Well, almost never. A nurse I know who is the educator for the hospital I work at tells a story about when she was younger and had taken a corpse to the morgue late one night. As she pushed the angel cart, "(yeah, for real. It's a covered stretcher that's used to transport the recently expired to the morgue without the hospital occupants seeing the evidence of a body. Cool, huh!) Ahem. As she pushed the angel cart into the morgue, a very frail woman's voice sounded: "Excuuuusssse me? Excuse me...do you have a blanket? It's very cold in here...!" Poor thing had been discharged to the 'eternal care unit,' a bit prematurely.

Needless to say, the nurse got the shock of her life. That's what's cool about being a nurse. You never know what to expect.

Well, I'm off to write my next blog. Until next time...Happy Reading! Take care, Pam.