whaddaya gonna pick?
The saddest thing ever is that the only food we had in the house for me to pack for lunch were pepperoni pizza-flavored Hot Pockets. Actually, no, the real saddest thing ever would be no lunch at all, but that's what I would have been faced with had I not brought along my freezer-section puff pastry. Whereas Joe has some other options, owing to the fact that he is not chained for 90% of the day in a room where no food or drink is allowed, I have to bring lunch because I don't have enough time during my lunch breaks to run down to the hospital cafeteria. Well, technically, I would have time to purchase the food, but I just wouldn't have time to eat it. Plus there's the matter of attending to certain mammary payload during my lunch breaks. So I pack my lunch.
Which is why today, I spent 20 minutes sitting next to the shower in the OR locker room, hooked up to a breast pump and eating a Hot Pocket. It was but one step up from being some high school misfit who eats lunch in the back room of the library, by the microfiche archives. A very small step up.
Currently reading: About regional nerve blocks.