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.