20 April 2010

I hate shaving.

I have an amusing life.

I woke up at 730am today, a nice 30 minutes before rounds. I bolted out of there at 743, tie in my white coat, penlight on my living room floor.*

I usually walk to SLEH since I live close by, and I can tell you the exact moment that it happened. In fact, I'll let you see out of my eyes exactly what I was looking at when it all went down.

So there I was. About to cross Richard JV Johnson avenue, feeling my face, when I realized I HAD A PATCH OF BEARD JUST BELOW MY EYE, UNSHAVEN, FML.


I was to meet for rounds in 4 minutes on the 20th floor. All was well though. I don't think anyone noticed. I was pretty hypervigilant about watching people's eyes. Then I asked my fellow if anything was off, and she denied it. But she's got some facial hair thing going too, so who knows.**

I went to see my obtunded patient, who more than likely did not notice anything. Then, promptly ran downstairs to get a overpriced razor from the gift shop to fix this devacle.

ONE TWENTY FIVE. Also, they don't take credit card for less than $3 so I bought some candy for my team / cute fellow.

I'm going to use that blue-jean technique to keep this SLEH razor going for a few months. Oh and, single blade razors are so incredibly shitty, it took me half a dozen strokes to trim my face.

* :(
**: I'm kidding. She's too cute.

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