(Cough.)
I got this package in the mail at work the other day. Usually my mail at work consists of clear plastic-wrapped medical journals (which I unwrap...sometimes) and various hospital-robot generated admonitions to sign my charts. So to get an actual package was something of a curiosity. This was what was inside.
Soap. Like a gift? From a patient that I had taken care of?
"Maybe they're trying to tell you something," one of my anesthetists piped up, miming the miasma of my prodigious body odor.
"Shut up, KEN," I said to him. (His name is Ken. Hi Ken!) "Oh wait, there's a card in here."
Turns out the soap was not from a patient, rather from a woman who had been pointed in the direction of the blog by her daughter, a third-year medical student. The woman (meaning the mom, though I'm sure they both read it because IT IS DISGUSTING) had seen my recent blog entry about the rats who have been eating our soaps (plural--upon further investigation, they actually tore into four or five bars, going preferentially for the Dove Men's Deep Clean soap while eschewing the unscented bars) and decided to send along a few bars of her handmade herbal soaps. And I think that's very sweet, because we are definitely bulk price club soap buyers, we've never had soap this nice.
Of course, the very fact that they smell nice will probably make them irresistible to the rodentia, so I'm going to have to keep them somewhere safe, like in the fridge or something. Unless they can get into there too, opening the fridge with their little clammy paws, like Raptors. Blergh. I've mentioned we're hoping to move in a month and a half, right?
(Thanks for the soaps, Christine!)