A slim week, really. Not much reading involved, though large amounts of listening. I spent the vast majority of my awake time being oriented to my new surroundings. The OSHA people, always fun and full of glee, extracted our child-like whimsy and crushed it as we all watched. Some highlights:
No kung fu fighting in the Radiation Department.
Adding water to chemical waste does not dilute said waste; it only generates more of it. So, don’t.
Spilling formaldehyde down elevator shafts is not encouraged.
Do not put darts in the centrifuge.
The playing of ‘Truth or Dare’ in any lab will result in a harsh beating and dismissal from your respective program.
Tomfoolery, hijinx, and general grabassery are prohibited everywhere.
Do not fill Super Soakers with liquefied e coli, then engage in Microbiological Death Match with other labs.
Doing shots of liquid nitrogen will not make you a ‘cold-blooded killah’. They will make you dead. Death is prohibited.
The highlight was when one OSHA dude showed a picture of someone wearing crocs and said, ‘You can’t wear crocs in the lab. Or ever, preferably. I saw a picture of Tim Tebo wearing crocs yesterday and it confirmed my hatred of him.’ Me, too, OSHA guy. Me, too.
This week’s ultimate prop: Achewood.
Seriously, people. If you want to give yourself the gift of laughter, start reading through Achewood’s archives.
And, finally, a poem from a Seattle bus, where great swaths of worthy prose sit awaiting discovery. Thanks, again, to Sarah.
From the Hospital Bed by Eve Psalti
Closing my eyes
Almost feeling the sand
The salty air through my hair
Carries voices of the loved ones
Wet feet, glorious, crusty sun
Fried fish and fresh tomatoes
And a long table set
Sir @ August 8, 2008