Work, Personal, and...stuff

My very first evaluation as a full time employee is coming up.  Oh, I have had them yearly when I worked per diem, but I didn't care what they said cuz it made no difference.  It would not get me a raise, or a promotion, or a bonus, or any kudos other than "good job, Penni".  And now, since raises are frozen, it still doesn't matter that much, except there are certain requirements I now have to meet.  I have all the mandatory annual stuff to do, which is almost all computerized, and I have most of them done.  I have to renew my CPR certification.  I have to get a TB test.  Blah!  But, most of all, I have to be able to prove that I have taken a chemotherapy/biotherapy provider course.  WTF?  I took that class, 15 or more years ago, back when there was no such thing as a "provider card".  I need the card in order to administer chemo.  I have to laugh or I'll cry.  I have taught that very class more than once, and now I will be on the receiving end.  Oh yeh, they are graciously allowing me to administer chemotherapy, even tho I don't have said card.  What a surprise!  I have been doing so for 5 years at this very hospital, and no one has ever even asked.  And, I am considered a resource to the newer nurses.  The good thing about this?  I get 2 days off to take the course, and a half day for the CPR certification renewal.  Woot! 

Now the disturbing part.  When I left "home", I just sorta packed some clothes and left.  I furnished my apartment with almost all new stuff, which was fun, but now I have to start thinking about stuff I left behind.  We have not spoken for months now, and that is ok.  I still come home from work every day expecting to find a "gift" on my doorstep, or even the man himself.  I dunno, just paranoid, I guess, cuz he has stopped doing that, too.  But all my personal stuff, like my work history, past evals, all sorts of files on various things, are still there.  I need them.  It will be cooling off soon.  I need my sweaters.  My jackets/coats.  Lotsa stuff.  And, I don't wanna go there.  Chicken shit?  Yeh, I guess.  Maybe I can get my daughter to go with me as a bodyguard.  We shall see.

One more thing!  Dave!  No!  You CANNOT have Keesha!  My kitty!  But come see me anyways....