Crash

Crashed early last night, out like the proverbial light at 1930. Dreamed I was interviewing Bruce Campbell, checked the clock at 2345, otherwise, all deep, dank sleep. One long, if short, day, working with a very good scrub, if a particularly concentratedly poisonous surgeon. Still, it all worked out, eventually. And we got to start the long weekend a bit early.

I've never been one to celebrate Memorial nor Labor days. Not from a family of barbequers, not from genetics nor marriage. Just a paid day off, or a day on call. What does one do to celebrate death in war? How to have a 'happy hopeless attempts' to check the abuses of big business (only to replace it with an additional layer of bureaucracy connected to organized crime)? Worthy enough of a national day, but celebration? Hard to wrangle that around my head. Even growing up in a union town like Detroit. I believe in unions, a very important step toward worker safety and decency. I've done the army, my remains will eventually like in the veteran's section of a cemetery somewhere, and I'm fine with that. It all seems so, well, either sad or utilitarian.

Nevertheless, I will enjoy my day off, never taking for granted my lack of call shifts, or holiday coverage, for the first stretch in a very long time.