they're playing jack johnson in here and all i want to listen to is badly drawn boy

This schedule may just be the end of me. My body has no idea of what to do. Am I tired? I don't even really know. Poor body. Chalk it up to my physical abuse. Of self. What? Anyway.

This week at work has been incredibly odd. One of our manager types was gone for two nights in a row so that left a black hole where leadership used to be. I won't say there was total chaos, but it was certainly different. The night after the fall/Old Terror Chase we had a number of split shifts, one belonging to someone who worked the PM shift who filled in for the overnight. He is Dave Foley, exactly, in miniature, down to his slightly effeminate yet completely precious mannerisms and inappropriate comments. Of course he wasn't used to overnights so for the last few hours he was definitely dragging. I had stayed up for most of the day, with a few hours of sleep right before work, and I wasn't feeling it the way that I normally do-- I wasn't sleepy at all, but the exhaustion was just manifesting itself in weird ways, like my inability to complete a sentence or forgetfulness or, the telltale Katrina needs to go to bed now sign: inappropriately large laughter. This condition was only aggravated by having alot to do and having Dave Foley around, cracking me up.

For example, the laundry room is a dangerous place because it's so loud in there and one usually has one's back turned to the doorway, so anytime someone comes in to say something to one, one is always surprised/frightened. They get me every time. Dave Foley knew this so whenever he wanted to come into the laundry room with me he would start making illegible sounds from all the way down the hallway, culminating with him standing in the doorway, quietly singing "it's onnnnly me, onnnnnlyyy mee meee..."

And so the night proceeded on. Sardonic, with no one to fence him in, decided not to bother with most of his assignment for the evening and spent his time mastering the art of wheelchairing himself around the building. Sometimes Dave Foley rode on the back of said wheelchair. By the evening's finale Dave Foley and I were stretched to the point of being completely batty (he is scared of the dark, so at various points of the night someone would sneeze in the dark or something and he'd jump 5 feet into the air) and Sardonic sighing to the point of complete boredom, this motley crew had one large task left: changing Old Terror. We had been in the room every hour to check her, and she had yelled at us to get out, and because she was not wet, we obeyed. But now. Now the time had come. Sardonic led the charge, still in the wheelchair, followed by Dave Foley and myself, trying to walk a straight line. We just sat in her room, not waking her, for a long time, none of us feeling the energy to summon the demon. Finally, Dave Foley sucked it up and smiled like the little elf he is and poked Old Terror, all the while starting to sing and dance to a ditty that went something like this: "Hey hey Agnes Agnes, hey hey! Time to change, Aggy aggy! Time to change with us? And it's FREE! And it's FREE!" At this point he began to use the jazz hands and everything. For the duration Old Terror just gazed at him with her evil eye, and once he was done she finally said to him-- imagine, in the angriest voice possible-- "CAN YA DO THAT NAKED?"

HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA.
That's pretty much what I did. I could NOT keep it together. I just literally slumped out of my chair and onto Old Terror's floor, crying with laughter, unable to stop. I finally had to crawl out of the room to get her a new diaper thing, but by the time I made it back I just collapsed again, in tears of hilarity, as my companions watched and tried to suppress laughter themselves. Imagine that, if you will: I, Katrina, wearing plastic gloves and holding an adult diaper, collapsed at the foot of the most terrifying old woman in existence while a mini Dave Foley dances about and his curmudgeon friend rolls around in a wheelchair.

To her credit, I'm pretty sure Old Terror had no desire to see Dave Foley dance naked, I think it was either her way of insulting him or one of those aphasia things where she's trying to say something but another thing comes out altogether. But still. It was the angriest request I have ever heard for someone to dance naked.