Babies and beer for breakfast.

Not babies for breakfast, I don't mean. That came out all wrong.

This has been a hellish week on the unit, mostly because staffing sucks. I've had nightmares every night--and when you're getting six hours' sleep at the most, spending even a few seconds of it back at work is too much--and the topper came this morning:

I dreamed I was stepping on and in piles of imported cheeses in order to get to a dinner party I didn't want to go to, and sit next to a woman I particularly dislike. In my dream, I threw a temper tantrum.

So this morning I cancelled my workout with Attila, turned off the telephone, drank two cups of incredibly strong coffee with cream, and then made:

Eggs, softly scrambled and baked in a tomato
Mushrooms, broiled with butter and sea salt
Sourdough bread I made last week, toasted
Lashings of triple-cream brie
Imperial Stout with an ABV of 10.

Thirty-nine hundred calories later, I feel almost human. This has as much to do with the fact that I served breakfast on vintage Fiestaware with a real cloth napkin and a flower in a tiny Fiesta bud vase in front of me as it does with my blood sugar normalizing.

Staffing has been...well, frankly, I'm concerned about my license--and the safety of my patients--after this week. Things have been busy, we've been understaffed; I'm tired of being alone when a crisis hits. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it yet, but it'll probably lead to some sort of snarky showdown and then a temporary improvement in conditions.

So today? Is off the chain. It'll probably involve my dropping way too much money at the local hippie-dippie market for more cheese, scented holistic vegetarian one-world body washes, and a massage. I might get a pedicure as well. Perhaps I'll even watch a movie (I have "The Thin Man" coming today from Netflix, and why didn't anybody tell me Netflix is like crack?).

Later tonight, The Man of God and his Lovely Wife are having a little Do so that everybody can meet The Child of The Man of God. He's cute, in the way that cute babies end up being unfortunate-looking children and good-looking adults. His nose is way too big for his face, and he's as long and skinny as somebody who crawls under doors for fun.

I figure beer (and cheese and mushrumps and toast) for breakfast and babies later is the best way to wash the taste of this week out of my mouth. Tomorrow will be yoga and vegetables; for now, it's a free-for-all.