I guess I haven't talked about work for a while. Maybe that's because I always seem to be at work. Working. Taking boring calls about vomiting, which is the diagnosis of choice lately.
With the change in temperature this week, we've been getting our share of other stuff, including some frostbite stuff -- cover up in these temperatures, folks, or your ears might fall off. Heck, even the puppy isn't liking this cold, cause he just does his thing and tears off for the door. It's cold, folks!
Last night, one of the pages we got said "chipmunk bite." Now, I know that I live in the city of concrete and gaseous manholes, but we were all trying to figure out how one gets bitten by a chipmunk in the middle of January in Indiana. Keep in mind, at my job, anything is possible, so we keep ourselves braced for anything -- like when I called someone tonight about "possible frostbite," and her "please enjoy this ringtone while we try to reach your party" song started blaring "chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose........" No lie. I couldn't make this stuff up.
So she gives a call to this lady, who has a Chinese name. Lady tells her that she was at work at her restaurant, and when she went outside, she saw a little chipmunk, and he wasn't moving. She was afraid he was frozen, so she took him inside and put him into a little container, to see if he'd come around. Checked on him every few minutes, and gave him a little poke. Realized she'd poked him one time too many when he reached up and bit her on the finger.
Me being me, when I hear the story, I wonder aloud if that chipmunk is now on the menu. Heck, my co-workers already think I'm warped for the things I come up with, so I tell 'em, "better not be eating any sweet and sour chicken at her place." Maybe I'll try Thai next time.