#ugh truth

These are the things I hate in the month of April:

Paying a $175 ticket for going over 5 miles while heading to work. 

Getting back less in a refund cause I don't have property or a kid.

People calling me to help them, but if the shoe was on the other foot they ain't coming.

Working behind the laziest CNA's known to the planet. WTF ,don't you clean out the bedpans?

The Crazy RN is still crazy. It's going to be an ice munching night.

Sent out a check and it is not cashed. WTF!!

Cousins reaching out to other cousins but these asshats won't call my Dad.  I think they think my Dad killed Grandma. Nope, it was them. Who doesn't put the welfare of a 90 y o first? Using her benefits must have been fun. COWS!!

Working with people who wonders what I do for my patients in HH. Mind your motherfucking duties. 

Lying ass people who make up stories. People want to know the truth even I question your sanity. Cut off!

and who needs love there's southern comfort

and who needs LOVE AT ALL

me: and then there is tom hiddleston's british accent

krista: and?

me: aaslkjsfhfg flawless

krista: xDDDDDDDDDDDD

me: like if i could just marry his voice i would

krista: of course you would

THOREAU SYLVAN GREEN Your muse not only polishes story blobs into sparkling gems, but also repairs your car’s transmission and mends your relationship with your parents. At night your muse nestles beside you in bed and whispers sublime opening lines to new stories. Every morning she makes you hand-squeezed orange juice and pancakes in the shape of Alfred Nobel’s profile. She never leaves your side.

MARK TWAIN RIVER BLUE What a promising pile of index cards, napkins and gum wrappers you have! They’re filled with evocative words like “penance,” “revenge” and “lust.” Before you begin writing each morning, your muse makes you an iced coffee. She massages your back as she guides your cursor across the screen. Before she leaves you alone at night, she murmurs, “Fear not, Word Warrior, you shall win this battle.” FLANNERY O’CONNOR PORCH LIGHT YELLOW One morning you find your manuscript lying in the cat’s litter box. Your muse swears a gust of wind must have blown it in there. She says you’re a talented and soulful writer, and she would never, ever disparage your words. Your tabby cat jumps up and down on your desk and points his paw at your muse. She picks him up and coos, “Ah, sweet little kitty thinks you’re a fine writer, too.”