Murphy's Law

I wrote this entry last night, was on the phone to Maja through Skype, and all of a sudden the internet stopped working. Hahahahaha!

(Wednesday 7 June)
I have just finished laughing my ass off, because Blogger.com has a message up that it is temporarily unavailable. It's always something, and I am so thankful to finally be laughing at it, rather than feeling sad or cut off or pissed off or panicky that I’ve lost my connection to everyone back home. First our internet had stopped working, and apparently it has re-engaged itself without anyone doing anything about it…uh-oh. Means it may very well go wonky again in the near future. So now I’ve got my internet connection, but I can’t say anything to anyone because Blogger is down. Damn, I wish I could remember what the phrase is that they use here, I would say it’s Murphy’s Law. I heard it recently too, I just can’t remember what the equivalent phrase is.

I’m currently writing this entry on Word, hoping I can use my little Blogger publisher tool and bypass the internet site, but I suspect if Blogger is down, this won’t work either. We’ll give it the old college try though.

I’m going through something very similar to what Midge is describing recently, now that she has been assigned to a pulmonary (vent) unit. I am working all the afternoons this week on various wards in the main unit, meaning acute care of the elderly wards. I don’t know any of the staff, but because I’m wearing the easily recognizable OT uniform, I get waylaid left and right by nurses wanting to know the result of an OT intervention, or why someone hasn’t yet been seen, and I get comments from patients funnily enough about how familiar I am, they’re sure they’ve seen me before, so why I don’t know their entire medical history by heart, why am I asking them to tell me why they are in hospital? (And yes, I do read the chart before I see a patient, it’s supposed to be an OT trick to get a snapshot of someone’s cognitive status, how well they can explain what happened to them.) I think I spend more time explaining that I am a covering therapist, with little knowledge of the way the wards run, than I do completing assessments.

In other news, I need some help here…I’ve received probably my third reminder from Nicole’s boyfriend Dave that I am expected to come to his fancy dress birthday celebration in August. Fancy dress here means costume party. For as well-liked a guy as Dave is, he seems to be concerned that not a lot of people will show up and/or have a good time. I need a clever and/or funny idea here folks. Help a girl out!