* Some days, I love almost everything about my job. Some days, I actually have fleeting moments where I believe this job is my calling in life and I would happily work here forever even if they didn’t pay me.

* And then on other days, I consider it a success that I did not start smoking cigarettes that day. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought about it. I’ve even been in CVS on my lunch hour and thought to myself, “I could buy cigarettes while I’m here and then I could smoke and I would feel so mellow.” But I didn’t. But I’m not saying I won’t. Some days, I’m convinced that its a strong possibility that I WILL, without a doubt, be a smoker if I keep working there.

* Today was one of those smoking-wishful-thinking days. I deliberately stayed away from the Butt Hut (the smoker’s gazebo) so as to avoid the temptation. It was one of those days.

* I wonder if some sort of self-destructive tendency goes along with working at a place like that, due to 1) almost everybody smokes, and 2) one of my coworkers actually said today that he hoped I would hit him with my car in the parking lot so that he could check into the hospital and not have to come to work for a while. Makes you wonder….

* If not cigarettes, do we all need some substance to get through the day? My personal drug of choice is a Diet Dr. Pepper and two extra-strength Excedrin, but only on the really tough days. And on the really, really tough days, I clock out and go to Sonic for happy hour for a large DDP. Today was a two-DDP, four-ESE day. That’s a lot. But DDP days are pretty rare.

* However. The cafeteria was out of coffee creamer today. STINK. Because I do have to have my eight or so cups of coffee per day. And I am not a black coffee drinker. This bad habit started when I started working here; like I said… we all need a substance. And the cafe is right across the hall from my office, with fresh coffee all day long… so convenient. But no coffee for me today. And I was not happy about that.

* And on an unrelated note… I don’t sleep much at night.

* There is no Starbucks in Gladewater. I’m sure this comes as a surprise to no one. However, they do sell wine in the Brookshire’s so if you’re at the grocery store on your lunch hour, hypothetically you could buy wine right there in the grocery store. Not that I would buy wine on my lunch hour. Or ever. I’m Baptist, duh. But it is weird to see in the grocery store, having lived in a dry county my whole life.

* There is no Chic-Fil-A in Gladewater. Again, no surprise. Though if you’re hankerin’ for Chicken Fried Steak, you have your choice of fine dining establishments from the Pea Patch to the Silver Spur. Which is why I end up at Brookshire’s most days on my lunch hour, and not always for the wine; they have fruit and salad there. I really should start taking my lunch to work.

* I hate Medicaid and all parts of my job related to Medicaid. I hate their stupid 1-800 numbers that I have to call, get transferred here, get transferred there, hang up and dial another 1-800 number only to get transferred right back to the first person I talked to…. sheesh. I hate the Medicaid application, 172 pages of boxes and blanks. It makes me all head-achy and nauseated just to look at it. I spend HOURS on hold with Medicaid, though this does give me ample opportunity to catch up on my Words With Friends games while I’m stuck to the telephone….

* I have my own office, which I do not particularly enjoy. I wish I shared an office and when Laura left, really tried to snag her desk so I could share an office with Tasha just to have some companionship. Didn’t work out. So I sit alone and stare at a dirty beige wall all day with no one to talk to. Except Medicaid.

* And J., a 21 y/o girl who lives there. She comes to visit me most days. Some days I love a visit from J., and other days I have to pray for patience because she wants to visit 3 or 4 times as I’m trying to sort through a dadgum Medicaid application and I’m just too ADHD to multitask. Some days, I know just what to say to make J. laugh, and I do love to make her laugh… she totally gets my goofy sense of humor. I also know how to make her roll her eyes, like when I can’t get off the phone with stupid Medicaid to talk to her. My favorite, though, is when she wants me to turn up the radio and she belts out country songs at the top of her lungs. That, literally, brings tears to my eyes, its so awesome. I would work there for free just to hear J. sing country songs. She loves her some country music, though she has posters of Eminem and 50 Cent in her room. My kinda girl.

* L. is a 17 y/o guy who blows kisses at me from his wheelchair and tells me I’m hot when I walk by, and when he asked me if I was married and I said NO, he said, “Halleluiah!!!!” I don’t care who you are… women love that stuff.

* Then there’s S., a victim of a drive-by shooting who is now a quadriplegic. He has some amazing art on his walls that he painted by holding a paint brush in his mouth. Amazing! So I recruited him to paint me something for my blank beige wall. What do you want? He asked. Uh…I dunno… how bout a horse. And make it a brown and white paint horse ’cause those are my favorite kinda horses, I answered. So he’s on it. And you better believe that will be one of my prized possessions when he finishes it.

* And N. She fell out of a moving vehicle as it was speeding down the highway. I read her chart, and she had a high likelihood of expiring, the ER records said. And now I watch her, from almost dead two months ago, to therapists help her learning how to walk in the hall right outside my office, and that, my friends, is amazing too. Watching her get better makes dealing with Medicaid on her behalf almost…. almost… worth it.

* Then there’s B. He’s the guy I told you about who got bad news last week. He really wants a Play Station 3. And by gosh, he deserves it. If you feel so inclined to buy him one.

* But my favorite person of all is J., a 25 y/o guy with cerebral palsy who tracks me with his eyes when I walk through his wing. At some point each day, I make a point to go say hi to J. and pat him on the head because he reaches out to hold my hand and grins SO BIG that it makes my heart melt. We all seem to have our favorite resident, and goodness gracious, he makes my day. He is my positive affirmation each day because when I’ve had a really crappy day, J. always loves for me to just say hi to him.

And that’s reason enough to get up and go to work every day.

Even if I do end up with lung cancer because of it.