my sister delivered a baby to the morgue in the basement of the hospitalAny ideas? E-mail me with your entries.
where she works. she and the nurse she was training were escorted by a
security guard. after they dropped off the baby, the guard told them that
they looked like it had been a rough day and that he could show them
something to cheer them up. deciding that there was safety in numbers,
they agreed to go with the guard. he led them to a door labeled "the rock
room." through the door was what appeared to be the air conditioning
room, but on the other wall was another door labeled the same as the
first, and it was through that second door that they went. inside the
room was a giant rock, clyindrical in shape, and as large as my
efficiency. the guard claimed that the hospital was built around the
rock becuase it could not be moved. this seemed suspicious to my
sister since it is possible to blast through mountains, etc.
my sister thinks that the rock is necessary for MRIs. perhaps they need
a giant rock for grounding or something to do with magnetism. i just
don't know. what do your readers think? does every hospital have a rock
BTW: Speaking of rocks and my mother, there's this little detective game I play during my trips back home to the farm where I notice that something is out of place and must be where it is because it serves some new and ingenious problem-solving function, and then I have to set about figuring out what it is. For example, once when I came home there was this fist-sized rock sitting in the bathroom, on the edge of the bathtub. Since we wouldn't just have a rock in our bathroom for no reason, the game was on. The answer turned out to be that the bathtub drain had broken so that the little switch would cause the drain to pop up but not to go back down, and the rock was brought in so that you would put the rock on top of the drain when you were taking a bath (no showers on the farm) to keep the drain closed until you were done.
Update, 2:55: Another reader from here in Madison e-mails in:
speaking of connecticut, i just gave a girl a ride home from the post
office because she was struggling to bungee cord a giant box to the back
of her bike and was clearly going to be unsuccessful. we loaded her
bike and the box into my trunk and i drove her home. idle chit-chat
ensued and i asked where she was from (the box had stuff in it that
she had forgoten to mave back to madison). she said, "minnesota. you
are from connecticut." i was momentarily horrified that i had somehow
offered a ride to someone who was coincidentally also my stalker. then
i remembered i had old CT plates in my trunk.