I'm recording this more for my own personal accountability than to entertain you.
Yesterday, I dragged myself through about 16 academic articles on Aquinas' theories of God's veracity (basically, proofs that God is all good and because of His nature, He cannot lie) and flipped through a couple of books. I was struggling to reference a concept I had in my mind, about how it's contradictory for God to lie since it counteracts His entire existence.
The little hamsters in my brain's wheel went round and round. Finally, it hit me.
Descartes. Descartes was the philosopher that said that. I reached around me and pulled that book off my bookcase in the library.
I always feel super cool to be able to use books from my undergrad theo and philo degrees as academic references in grad school. Sometimes, like in this case, it's actually a primary reference (as opposed to a secondary reference, as through someone writing ABOUT Descartes. These types of primary citations usually win you substantial brownie points in Dogmatic Theology Professor World).
ANYWAY, I took a break in the late morning to convince Jack to go on a long neighborhood walk with me. It was sunny and 50 and we had this terrrible winter storm (snow, sleet, hail, ice, locusts) due in by evening. I HAD to get outside. And expose my pale, Eastern European skin to the Vitamin D gods.
We went for a glorious walk. It was glorious. Did I mention that it was great? Some of its greatness, of course, originated in the break from good ol' Thomas. The other snippet of greatness came from the fact that I knew I had to have a quick evening and crash early, since I was scheduled to help run the hospital during the storm. My shift was from midnight to 8 a.m.
SO during the walk, I complained and complained to Jack, about how I never get any down time. A stupid Aquinas paper AND an accreditation survey AND a freaking snowstorm? UGH. Why can't I ever get a stinkin' break!?!?!
In the middle of our suburban street, on a 50-degree Saturday, I uttered "If I don't have to cover the hospital tonight, I will never complain about Thomas Aquinas ever again."
When we got home, Jack promptly started perking a pot of chili. I returned to my paper-writing, shoulders hunching over medieval epistemology that rang very distant bells in my undergrad head.
I then received a text message from the Administrator on Call, about how I was not needed until 5 a.m. Sunday. YEEEEHAAAW!
I was able to break out the Saturday Night Vino (second only to Saturday Night Live)!
Jack and I had a wonderful, surprise Saturday night together and celebrated by challenging each other to Wii tennis, 100-pin bowling, and frisbee golf. I think I tore my rotator cuff.
I set my alarm for 3:30 a.m. so I could check texts and emails for further updates. Upon waking from a very vivid dream where I accidently infested an old gothic church with wasps and then somehow burned it down (no, I did not take Ambien), I checked all my correspondance.
Nothing. Crickets chirping. I whooped for joy, set the alarm for 6, then went back to sleep.
Same story at 6:00 (minus the church arson part). So I let myself sleep until the glorious hour of 8:00 a.m. Jack served me coffee in bed and we finally ambled downstairs to cook brunch.
I received the email at 11:06 a.m., that the command center at the hospital was not going to be opening and that they were calling off the coverage schedule. (!!!!!!) The forecasted storm was nothing too crazy; we did receive a small bit of ice and maybe 2" of snow, but people were still out in the neighborhood, walking their dogs and exercising.
At 11:07 a.m., I realized that God fulfilled His end of the deal. I did not have to sacrifice a much-needed Saturday night and Sunday of rest. I have to now uphold my end of the bargain:
I can never complain about St. Thomas ever again.
God - 1, Dorrie - 0!
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