the underwear drawer

trophy wife

We just got back from the end-of-year party for Joe's medicine residency program at [Upper East Side Hospital]. It was fun. Open bar, good food, nice people, many of whom I'd met before. Given that I was a spouse at the event and not one of the actual residents, I think I played my part well. I put on a tight black dress, cleaned myself up but good, and basically made nice, polite conversation with everyone. And, when asked, "And what do you do?" I could still say that I was a doctor and keep up with all the conversations about patients, IV access gained and lost, and the perils of woefully underplanned discharges. Basically, I played trophy wife. And you know what, that's fine. Just as long as Joe plays trophy husband once in a while.

However, after another night of boozery (two glasses of white wine and a Grey Goose Gimlet--Kal's recommendation, which I enjoyed very much) I'm a little bit drunky. Man, it hasn't been since the summer before med school started that I've kept up this schedule of going out every single night. If this keeps up, I'm going to have to start filching bags of saline and IV tubing from the hospital so I can bolus myself overnight.

Currently reading: "Persepolis". Still. I am also still reading "The Dogs of Babel" in parallel, but I needed something a little lighter to read alongside it.

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