First Call

I was on first call last night. Meaning that anytime anyone in the country had a crappy organ to give away, they called me and tried to get me to take it. No deal people. No deal. Through the course of the night, the lung surgeon (who I have a major "if i were only 40 years older" crush on) and I had several conversations.

Call 1 of the night:
Dr. Australian Cutie Pie: Hey Sam, whatcha got?
Me: Backup lung offer
Dr. ACP: Is it any good?
Me: You're the surgeon! I don't know if they're any good!
Dr. ACP: laughing Okay, give me the offer.

Call 3 of the night:
Dr. ACP: Hey Sam, what's up?
Me: Lung offer
Dr. ACP: Any good?
Me: Nope. Unless you want a lung that's been smoking for 40 years.
Dr. ACP: G'night Sam.

Call 7 of the night:
Dr. ACP: Hello?
Me: It's no good.
Dr. ACP: Okay. G'night.

So I was up all night. With various crappy offers. But I kept telling myself "you're off tomorrow...you're off tomorrow...off call at 7 AM...you can sleep all day." And then I awakened to reality. At 7:30 AM. Because I live in a hellhole which is becoming a condo complex.

I woke to what sounded like someone trying to drive a pickaxe through my bathroom wall. And hammering in the apartment to the right. Which means right into the wall where my bed is. I need to move. ASAP. Because I can't wake up to this every morning. And also, my water's turned off. Undoubtedly in relation to the bathroom pickaxing. Bastards. So, I'm up. I can't take a shower. I can't brush my teeth. I'm a hostage in construction hell. I think today would be best spent apartment hunting. Because sweet Jesus I just can't take it anymore. Also, the owner of these condos is freaking me out. But that's another post. Laters!