In Eeyore's Stick House

The girl made her way into Eeyore's house, careful not to disturb the log sticks lest it all come tumbling down. Eeyore is singing to her while she flips open her diary...

I'm on afternoon (12 pm to 9 pm) today. Just barely 4 pm, my feet were aching so badly I'm walking with the side of my feet. So I look kinda funny. I read in last month's Reader Digest that writing is therapeutic. Now, I guess I can safely say that I know myself very well. I seldom sleep well on days that I'm working. It's either I suffer from insomnia or I wake up several times during the night, each time having difficulty falling back asleep. But when the next day is my off day, I can sleep through the night with no problems.

Becoz I'm on afternoon, I have to take over cases from my colleagues who go off at 6 pm. This Dr K kept calling me 'auntie'. If I'm not me, I'll probably tell him, "I'll only give you this item if you call me xiao jie." But I'm me and I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable talking this way. He asked for a suture and said that he didn't want the needle holder. So I just gave him the suture and he gave me a exasperate look saying how did I expect him to stitch without the needle holder. His assistant was holding on to the needle holder which I thought he would get it from her. Anyway, I just gave another 1 to him.

I feel alright. But then, I thought if writing it all down serves as a way of letting out frustrations no matter how minute that it escapes detection, there's no harm in doing it. Who knows? Maybe it'll help me sleep better at night.

Oh ya... for some reasons, my previous 2 entries' time and dates are screwed. It was supposed to have been posted yesterday. Oh well... at least it's ok now.

Eeyore says he's tired. So the girl closes her leather bound book, says good night to Eeyore and snuggles in.