Funny story. The Hunny and I were catching up with each other this afternoon (I'd forgotten what he looked like) and I was telling him all about my cute shoes. I was so excited about purchasing this cute pair of Nikes:
Aren't they darling? White with a little pink swoosh. Not too girly, but adorable. And clean. I haven't had a pair of name brand sneakers in I can't even tell you how long.
So I'm telling him how, you don't know which shoes squeak until you have to sneak into someone's room at three AM. And these shoes squeak, let me tell you. Part of my new job is checking on each girl in the program every 30 minutes, and after lights out there's a list of specific girls to check. Still every half hour. The conversation with the Hunny went something like this:
F: I found out that these shoes squeak. It's not till you're sneaking around in the dark, checking on people, that you find out your shoes squeak.
H: Wait, you have to go in their rooms at night?
F: Yes, every half hour.
H: But you have to look at them?
F: I have to either see them breathing or see pink skin. Blue skin is bad.
H: Wait, you have to get close enough for that?
F: Well yeah. Dead is bad. I have to make sure they're alive. Believe me - walking into a room at 3 AM with squeaking shoes and a flashlight is nervous making.
H: So what will you do if you find someone blue? (I think at this point he was worried about his wife finding a dead body)
F: That's easy! I'd call a Code - wait, I don't know the code for Dead Body.
H: Maybe it's Code Blue.
So I'm to work again here shortly. I'll let you know if I have to call a Code Blue. Thursday morning I had to call a Code Red when the smoke alarm went off. Lots o'fun.
Until I write again ...
P.S. Don't forget to visit J and the cows!