This whole week has been exhausting, trying to get back into the routine of school. Many mixed emotions, this is my official last fall semester of undergraduate coursework at Public University and I certainly feel like it has gone too quickly. I know some “youngsters” that are beginning their freshman year, and I want to do a body switch à la Freaky Friday so that I can enjoy freshman year all over again. Being a freshman is awesome because your classes are easier. Maybe I enjoyed freshman year because that was the only year I lived on campus and was able to take full advantage of the free food and t-shirts (or at least find them easier and not let a forty minute commute stop me from socializing.) Either way at least I wouldn’t be old.
Anyways, I have resorted to public transportation. Why? First of all, riding trains and buses involves no driving. I get a chauffeur. Secondly, Public University is using some of the tuition money to pay for an annual pass for each student to ride the public transportation system. So, why not? Thirdly, the outrageous cost of parking on-campus combined with my post-party-road-trip drained bank account, makes using the free transportation a much better option than driving.
I planned to get to the train station at an eerily early hour, and arrive fresh and chipper to the hospital at a reasonable time this morning. But , I overslept, had to wait for my mom to uncrowd the kitchen, etc. Thus I left over twenty minutes later than I had originally planned. Nonetheless, not having to seethe and curse at the idiot drivers on the highway to the hospital was well worth the waiting at various stations.
The Hospital was quiet; perhaps less surgeries were scheduled seeing as Labor Day Weekend (no school Monday!) is quickly approaching. There was a new nurse on the floor, who was certainly not a greenhorn, but just needed to learn the surgery unit’s routine. There wasn’t very much for me to do; no new deliveries to stock the post-surgery-munchies fridge, and not patient discharges. So, I sat around, played with my new smart phone, and then was asked to clean.
Cleaning is mindless, helpful, and somewhat productive, so I gladly agreed to the task. The layers of dust and strange little crumbs make me wonder if anyone else has dusted in the last year. Seeing as the Hospital has yet to see virtue in Swiffer, I employed the extremely smelly purple-top wipes in my cleaning fest. I can’t exactly recall the chemical in the germicide wipes, but they were probably decaphenolsupersmellane wipes. Each time I opened the wipe container, a deep stinging smell of alcohol filled the air. Rather than the actual menial labor, this grotesque stench is what makes cleaning unpleasant.
All I did today at the Hospital was clean the administrative wards of the surgery unit; then, I grabbed a doughnut (perks of working in a private hospital) and met my dad for lunch. Even though today was not very exciting, being at the hospital makes me feel productive. (maybe just because I wake up before 7:00 am.) Whatever the reason, I am very glad I motivated myself to go to the Hosspital today. Thanks to my new acquaintance of the bus/train routes in my local city, I found an easy way to get to the Hospital that is well worth the inconvenience of waiting in 100 degree weather to be picked up by a dirty bus.
This afternoon the good deeds continued. As I was leaving Wal-Mart today with a friend, we saw a wallet go flying off of the roof of someone’s car and into the road as they turned through the intersection. I nearly took no action, but I instinctively felt that something must be done. I called the campus police, who transferred me to the city police, and reported the flying-wallet story. They didn’t giggle when I relayed my tale, so I imagine others must have called in with stranger reports. I received a few calls from the officers, who wanted to know details about the location of the wallet, and finally, 30 minutes later, they called me one last time to tell me that the owner of the wallet was very happy to have it returned to her.
I lose all of my possessions routinely (keys, planner, so I knew I would not have been able to stop thinking about that wallet if I didn’t do something. Moral of the story: if you find a lost wallet, call the local police!