We are bliss

I couldn't help but break into a run this afternoon, hustling it from the parking lot a block or so from my office. Take it easy, you're fine, you'll make it in time, I told myself but my feet wouldn't listen. I had worn my runners into the office this morning and packed my heels in my bag. As a communications professional sometimes you have to know when to sacrifice the Nine West heels for the Nikes. Today, with a big announcement with the provincial government and an awareness booth event at another hospital, was one of those days.

I work in a hospital, so running to attend to something really doesn't look out of place on my campus. I got upstairs with minutes to spare before my spokesperson, a doctor, was to go on air for a radio interview. I spotted him in the hallway talking to someone on my way back to my desk.

"See you at four-thirty for the interview?" I said? I wasn't even out of breath, all that work at the gym these days is actually paying off, hot damn I'm so pleased.

"Four-thirty-six," he reminded me. The station was especially precise with the timing instructions.

My spokesperson is actually a trauma team doctor, who, thankfully, has been extremely cooperative and impressively available for interviews. While I was out he left me a voicemail to say, "uh, sorry Jill, can't do that 4:30 interview today, we just had a call that four stabbings are coming in." I actually didn't get that message until after he did the interview (His subsequent voicemail to me was, hey, those stabbing aren't showing up so I think I can do the interview after all).

Earlier today, just before the media conference, I was sitting at a cafeteria table having coffee with three brilliant doctors. They were talking about the latest research and developments, one was drawing me an org chart of the people I need to know. I don't know what it is about being the shoe maven writer girl amongst a group of guys talking about some kind of science--health, computers, cars--that makes me feel Zen, but it does. It's my sweet spot, my private sunbeam.

I think I am falling dangerously in love with my new job. I know it's a bad idea to love work too much, to love anything too much, but this is still the puppy-love stage for me. I figure that's good for another month or so at least. For now I don't care that it means that I sometimes work long days or that I haven't blogged much or that it is costing me a fortune in gas and parking. I do miss my friends though. (I do! Please do drop me a line if you miss me too.) Work and I will go through some rough times eventually and I know I'll need to turn to my blog and my friends for a break, but for now, we are bliss.

(Okay, one crappy thing did happen at work this week: I knocked over my fresh tank of Sea Monkeys. So very sad. I will have to start them over, AGAIN with a new package.)