Last weekend I was signed up to give platelets. For some reason
my brain insisted on parsing this as "plasma," probably because I
had been told that I was underweight for platelets last time I
donated. The difference, of course, is that when you donate plasma
you have one arm free, and when you donate platelets (and plasma at
the same time, actually), you have no arms free. And it takes
longer. This put a bit of a crimp in my plans to get things done
while I was donating, but otherwise it was nice—the Red Cross
staff always pampers me something awful, I think because I look
both younger and smaller than I actually am, and I got to lie still
and not
do anything.
(We are going on a cruise in March. I am looking forward to it
so much. I am going to lie on deck with a book and soak up the sun
and do nothing more stressful than try snorkeling for the first
time.)
Oh, and you get the strangest compliments when donating blood
products. I was told once that I had a lovely platelet count, and
twice that I had very nice veins. (Note to self: you need to scarf
up calcium before you do that again.)
Friday morning at work, someone had a catastrophic incident with
the microwave and something plastic (and possibly something metal),
leading to an incredibly nasty smell/taste, the evacuation of the
floor for three hours while they aired things out, and the
condemnation of the microwave and the toaster oven that lived next
to it. I was scheduled that morning for two hours of "don't
sexually harass or discriminate against people" training, so at
least I had somewhere else to be for part of that time, but the
uncertainty about when we could go back didn't do much for my mood.
(They did an excellent job getting rid of the smell, but that
burnt-plastic taste just lingers.) The afternoon was
consumed with sudden franticness, but I managed to get home in time
for dinner out with Chad and his parents. We went to Lorenzo's, a
new-ish Italian place; a little more Iron Chef that we
usually have (I had risotto milanese with duck confit), but
good.
We also had dinner at another new-to-us restaurant last night,
Koto over on Wolf Road. Their tempura was quite good, my udon soup
did not stint on shrimp, and Chad said the sushi was very good. We
will make a note of it for the future.
Friday's franticness pushed a bunch of work into the weekend,
which has been difficult because my brain really, really wants to
take a vacation, and has already snuck some heavy procrastination
under the radar, which made me very angry with myself when I
realized. And, of course, there is the Super Bowl tonight (and
nevermind Paul McCartney, I'm watching the
Puppy Bowl at half-time). However, I can feel the brain getting
back into gear, so after a bit of lunch I shall get back to it.
Oh, and Chad had volunteered to be on program at Boskone for
science-y stuff, and got his draft schedule last night. I am oddly
chuffed on his behalf, and equally baffled at his
"one of these things is not like the others" panel.