Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Work
. . . has been a little crazy this week. Our neighboring building, where the General Surgeons, Urologists, and Ophthalmologists live, suffered a water heater explosion on Tuesday. To hear people talk, everything was under several feet of water. With my own eyes I saw someone walk out of there wheeling a tub with about two gallons of very ugly, sudsy waste water, and there did indeed appear to be a trail of water coming from the building, as if it had just stepped out of the shower and walked drippingly over to the giant towel rack.
We were all set to move out this week anyway, both of our buildings, to our new home next to the hospital. It’s a newly renovated building. We’ll have radiology, pharmacy, and a lab all under our roof, which will be convenient (especially the pharmacy), but the building itself, new as it is, will be a step down. I like my view of trees and lawn in our current (now former) digs. I don’t like my view of alleyway and ancient furniture warehouse rooftop in the new digs. And I don’t like the guacamole green paint job in our new clinic.
The exploding water heater brought out the local Bako news team and caused considerable confusion with scheduling. Tuesday morning was canceled, Tuesday afternoon they relocated us to one of the other outlying clinics. (We’re decentralized here in Bako, with something like six clinics scattered about the city.) Last two days we were at one of our bigger clinics. Mind you, we’re not GPs or internists; we’re specialists. We have special needs. Room layout is one of ’em. And tools, we need the right tools. So it’s been challenging, much the same way that trimming your toenails with pliers would be challenging.
Tomorrow, we’re supposed to unpack the new office. My partner and I both threw out our backs earlier this week, so there’s no telling what he and I will be doing tomorrow. Unpacking our own offices, I hope, and providing encouraging words to our staff.
And by Monday, we’re supposed to be open for business.
D.
Guacamole green! No! The evil ’70’s revival that makes shopping such a torture and viewing fashion forward types so unpleasant has finally drifted into interior design? Aaaaack! Surely somewhere in the building there must be some goldenrod yellow.
The third floor is a pleasant shade of blue. The ground floor, orange, but it’s an acceptable “cheery” orange and not 70s chic orange. We got stuck with the leftover guacamole paint.