After the holidays, it's back to work

After the holiday break, going back to work is not easy. This has always been true, but at my present age (which I’ll never divulge) it is even more difficult.
I can chalk a lot of this up to slight – very slight – memory problems. Sure, it has only been two weeks since I last worked, but I can’t remember where I stowed my briefcase with all my proctoring materials.  
Nurse Judy, my lazy alter ego, refuses to help me look for it. Work is something she avoids like the plague.
“Let’s try on these new outfits we got for Christmas,” she pleads as I try to prod her out from under the no longer beautiful Christmas tree.
“No,” I tell her firmly, not just because I am on a mission to get myself organized, but also because those new outfits are too small for my burgeoning girth.
Reluctantly she climbs out from beneath the tree, tinsel hanging from her hair reminding me of Medusa.
“I hate those scrubs you wear to work,” she says.  “They are so boring.”
She holds up a ruffled pair of chartreuse pajamas.
“Why don’t you wear these instead?” she asks.  “No one would know but what they are fancy scrubs.”
I try to stifle a giggle as I contemplate reporting to work in such a bizarre outfit.
She holds out a huge snowflake ring (larger than a silver dollar) that she has been wearing throughout the holiday season.
“At least you could wear this to dress yourself up a little. Otherwise, people are going to begin calling you ‘Drab Judy.’”
“You are being ridiculous,” I tell her. “I could really injure someone with that thing on my finger. If I didn’t hurt someone else, I could severely hurt myself. It could get caught in the bedsprings when I try to make the bed between clinical skills. You have no idea what a nurse has to do as a clinical evaluator.”
She smirks at me.
“Then, why am I the one that everyone calls ‘Nurse Judy’? Why are you the one that everyone calls ‘Plain Judy’ or now ‘Drab Judy’?”
I have no answer for that. “I need to find my work badge,” I say instead. “Have you seen it?”
“Forget it,” she says. “You look like something from ‘Planet of the Apes’ in that photo,” she says. “I am going to paste one of my sexy photos over it.”
“No, no, “ I tell her.  “You can’t do that.  That is an official document.”
Secretly, there is nothing I’d like more than to have a decent looking picture to wear around my neck, but one must not tamper with official IDs.
I rush into the closet to find my scrubs, tripping over my briefcase, which is buried under a pile of  used  Christmas wrappings. My badge flies up into the air. Nurse Judy catches it with one hand and takes off to change the picture.
As I lay on the floor, my face buried in tissue paper, I can’t believe that I really will be ready for work tomorrow.
More later,
Judy (aka Drab Judy)        www.nursejudyinfo.com