Current mood:

sore

mr. fox is one grumpy doctor.
One up, one down. [...] I used to be a fan of tennis. Team sports with schedules and seasons would not have worked well in conjunction with med school, but I recall that tennis was an effective accompaniment.

I'm nearing the end of my three day weekend. Then it's back to the office on Monday. Interestingly enough, I finally find myself discovering some of the appeal of a slacker lifestyle. Take heed; workaholicism is not all it's cracked up to be.

[Private]

Cataloguing, as is my wont.

Bruises, marks on wrists → long-sleeved shirt
Ribs, also bruised → whore
Blood on shirt; utter headache to wash out on my own, and far too many inconvenient questions from drycleaners → [...] Tossing it out.
Cuts on chest → Bandages, no longer bleeding. Thank god for hypochondriac tendencies; well-stocked first aid kit.
Hands shaky. Goddamn taser
→ Took a day off. Will hopefully be in a state to operate by Monday. If not, some poor unfortunate soul may experience complications and by god I'm not dealing with lawsuits on top of everything—

I feel like a fucking battered wife, for fuck's sake

[...]

She had better be worth it.