…because my brain is not filled with angry little emoticons. My brain is filled with fluffy bunnies and happiness.
Every time some malingerer with a Medicaid card snarls “I pay your salary!”, I can hear Karen Carpenter sweetly singing Close To You.
When the slack-jawed, inbred mouth-breather with a simple cold bitches for the umpteenth time “Why did HE get to go to a room right away? I’ve been sitting here for HOURS!”, I smile beatifically, because my emotional soundtrack is playing Walking on Sunshine.
When I explain to the Human Hippo (so named because she weighs 400 pounds and has a big mouth with precisely four teeth in it), for the fourth time since yesterday, that “It’s a stomach virus. We can’t cure viruses. We weren’t able to cure your other three kids when you brought them in over the past 24 hours. We’re not going to be able to cure you. Go home and stick a few of those Phenergan suppositories up your ass. You ought to have plenty of them,” I can do so without the slightest sign of frustration, because Louie Armstrong is personally serenading me with What a Wonderful World.
When the fourth person of the day complains of 10/10 pain and claims drug allergies that can best be summarized as “everything but potent narcotics,” I swear I hear Debbie Boone singing You Light Up My Life.
When the local witch doctor sends yet another patient across the parking lot to the ER for a fucking workup he could easily do himself, I hear the Beatles singing Let It Be.
When a good friend e-mails me and snarkily reminds me of the times when I actually had the time and energy to post frequently, I can hear Wilson Phillips encouraging me to Hold On, for just one more day. And even the fat one seems kinda hot.
Nope, no stress, anger and pressure here. Just warm spring breezes and alpine meadows with chirping birds and Julie Andrews prancing about, and all those lovely, uplifting songs in my personal inspirational soundtrack…
…where they all seem to merge together into one cacophonous clanging in my head until only one word comes through clearly:
KILL.*
So if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get my deer rifle and find a high spot somewhere.
Or put up a blog post. Whichever.
