Twenty minutes with Dave

Why does everthing have to even out?

Or more importantly why do I always feel like I am in the negative column. Probably perception. I am probably pretty much even.

I will preface this rambling with the fact that I believe in the One True God. But I like to attribute some of the smaller things in life to lesser gods. Like the parking god, the weather god, the god of lost things, although he is probably a devil or demon.

And this is the demon I plan to talk about. Due to the influence of some of my friends I also talk about things in terms of karma. That Drunk girl for instance has the best parking karma of anyone I have ever met. Even my ability to frequently find rockstar parking in such a dense over automobiled city such as chicago pales in comparison.

The karma god fucking with me currently is the one in charge of hiding all my shit. i lost my digital camera about 2-3 weeks ago which is why this blog has been bereft of ridiculous pictures of ridiculous people, namely me. That is about to change because I have found my camera. Under my couch. I was sure I looked there before. I know I checked the cushions no less than 4 times. I even checked under The Matador's couch. But on Monday I dropped Scrabble tiles on the floor, of course after counting all the letters to make sure they were all there, and thought some may have gone under the couch which is a fairly dark place so after not seeing any tiles I swept under there with my hand and viola'! Camera!

This would be a fantastic thing except for the events of the previous week. Last Wednesday I had a drunktastic night that I still haven't told you about, including the part where I both bent and lost my sunglasses. My $200+, influenced by shiny objects, Vegas sunglasses. I never spend that much on suglasses because I either lose them or break them. That night I managed to do both. I have been very careful with these. Mainly because I knew how much shit Brother would give me if I lost them. Mister Brother with the same John Lennon give me a fucking break sunglasses for the past 20 years. Yes, Dear Brother 20 years. You're old. Sorry had to get that in there. Then on top of that on Sunday I was working and set down my stethoscope in one part of the ER to suture and then found my self on the other part of the ER (yes it is that big) needing a stethoscope and being to lazy to go back to get it at that moment asked if I could borrow one. Of course Red, not my most favorite person in the universe right now, was the only one with one available. Fast forward an hour or so to my leaving. I went to the locker room and took a stethoscope off my neck and put it in my locker. Now in my mind everything is right with the world. I changed, went running and then met up with mat for food and to go see Knocked up. After eating I walk out of one the few places in Joliet that I can tolerate, while discussing that I don't want to go in Joliet after the movie because I don't want to run into Red. And my phone beeps with a message. I dial voicemail and just as I am about to say "It is Red wanting to meet up" Her voice comes on my message, and I hang up. Partially because it was way to freaky and partially because I can't make out what she is saying. I laugh hysterically and tell Matador about the meassage. After the movie I check my message and find out that she is asking what the hell did you do with my stethoscope. I should just blow her off, but my conscience, pesky bugger that it is, insists that I call to see if she found it. She did not not. Nor did she find mine. I tell her that I know I put a scope in my locker but can't tell her which one. I also tell her that I don't work until tuesday, true, but what I don't tell her is that I am still in Joliet. I can only hear on my phone if the spreaker phone is on. Long story. So the Matador is enjoying this whole conversation. Red says again that she looked everywhere and can't find it. I pause, which makes make giggle silently, then say I don't know what to tell you. Which ends the silence from Matador. He is now giggling quite audibly, while I am elbowing hime in the shoulder. I gues elbowing th edriver is not the best course of action but we survived. He found the whole thing extremely amusing I found it to be a pain in the ass. Phone call ends. I say I hope that my stethocope is in my locker, I mean I will feel bad if I lost her scope, but I paid for the damn thing. So she really isn't out that much. Which Matador also finds funny.

I spent the night on the Matador's couch so after trouncing him at a few games of Scrabble I go to the hospital and check my locker to find Red's stethoscope. One problem solved. I then look through both nursing stations and both dictation rooms even checking drawers but to no avail. I am pissed but have hope that some one put it away somewhere and will return it soon. I luckily have a fairly rare brand of stethoscope.

So Monday night rolls around and I find my damn camera and am quite excited until I realize the big cosmic joke. It is like the pile ofc lost things only has so much room and if you lose enough shit some of that shit will be spit back into existence to maitain balance.

The happy ending is that last night while working I check the one drawer I hadn't checked and bingo, stethoscope.

But I am still kind of pissed although despite my rantings I am somewhat ahead being that the cazmera is both more expensive and more useful.

As Joe Walsh would say, I can't complain but sometimes I still do.