45 minutes ago, I was at the Red Cross, trying to donate blood.
People who know me understand just how much I hate needles, but it bears repeating.
Now I have good veins. I've donated blood almost a dozen times and, until today, the person hit the mark on the first attempt every single time.
Today: not only did she miss the vein during the initial insertion, she started digging the needle around under the skin to hunt for it. In case you're wondering - this HURTS LIKE HELL.
I wince, and she yells at me that it's my fault for moving. Not even a perfunctory "sorry," acknowledging that I was in pain.
No - I get a 'See? This is why you should sit still!' lecture.
Right. The other dozen times I gave blood, I didn't know how to do that - and I was dancing in my seat just to mess you up, lady.
Ok. Nice long breath. I'm highly pissed off right now on account of the pain and the insolent attitude - but I pretty sure the anger will subside in a few hours.
Think it's time to hit the range and go for some .45ACP therapy.
(Paper targets, for those of you reading me from ca.fbi.gov jumping out of your chairs and putting on your coats).