the underwear drawer

make that a chardonnay tap
 
I came home today with a bottle of white wine, a gift from my Neurology fellow for the champagne tap the other day.  She said that she knew the rules stipulated champagne, but who really drinks champagne anyway?  I agreed that wine was the populist choice.  Do I look like the Puff Dad?  She brought a bottle for Jack too (Jack is one of the Neurology residents rotating through Peds this month, and an old med school friend), who also pulled off a champagne tap the day after I did--but while my bottle of wine was a Chardonnay, his was a Shiraz.  Does it defeat the intent of the prize if the wine is red? 
 
Anyway, it was nice of the Neuro fellow to get us gifts.  She's the opposite of what a bad scary Neuro fellow would be; worst case scenario they could be these manically intense nerds weilding both a fund of obscure yet useless knowledge, as well as the power to make your life a living hell.  Our current fellow is none of these things.  And besides, she has this lovely Australian accent that I could just listen to for hours.  Foreign accents--love them.  The other day, one of the anesthesiology residents I was talking with had a Dutch accent, and I was transfixed. 
 
I wore this v-necked t-shirt to work today.  It was fairly proper, I thought, not super low-cut or anything--not like I really have much in the mammary department to showcase--but still, I don't think that I should wear it in the hospital anymore.   I noticed that parents were telling their kid's seizure history to my chest.  I don't see anything particularly captivating about clavicles and a bony sternum overlain by what may be the world's puniest pair of pectorals, but maybe the skin itself was distracting.   And that in turn started to distract me--I spent most of the day pulling the v-neck narrower and higher.  I guess it's crewnecks and button-downs from now on.
 
Currently reading: "House of Leaves."  Has anyone else read this book?  Does it start to make sense later?

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