Epiphany

Bright and early Sunday morning, as I was headed down to take dose my lab animals, I had an epiphany.

Remember back in elementary school when some classrooms had a “class pet” and students were able to take the [rabbit/guinea pig/hamster/other animal in a cage] home sometimes over the weekend?

What if the same could be done with lab critters?

Friday night comes, and you stack up all the cages, pack the animal toolbox up with syringes, needles, alcohol swabs, calipers, drug, and whatever else you need…. and take your work home with you.  Then, instead of the weekend morning ritual (alarm goes off obnoxiously early… nearly throw phone across room in frustration… lie in bed thinking about how much you hate the lab… how much you hate your animals… how much you hate your life… how much you hate that you are the only person in the lab stuck with daily dosing as opposed to M/W/F… how much you hate that your PI always talks about how he always took the Sabbath off during his research fellowship but doesn’t extend you the same courtesy… hate that you are the only one in the lab in a long-distance marriage yet never get to sleep in with your husband on the 2-4 days per month he comes to visit… hate your PI… etc etc etc), you could climb out of bed, quietly shuffle out to the living room, get yourself situated, dose your animals from the comfort of your pajamas, and then climb right back into bed.

I really think I’m on to something here.  I’m going to be starting another much larger study pretty soon, so maybe I’ll use this as a bargaining tactic.  “Why sure, PI, I’d be delighted to come orally doze a bazillion mice every day so you can get the drug into clinical trials ASAP… as long as I don’t have to physically go in on weekends to do it!”

Disgruntled Julie: A True Hero

This evening, I was just minding my own business at home when I heard a blood-curdling shriek come from across the hall, causing me to immediately jump up and make sure everyone was okay.

(Weeeellll…. kind of.  I had just finished elliptical-ing, and one of the big benefits to owning your own elliptical is that no one sees you while you work out, so first I had to put on a shirt, and then I cracked my door open a few millimeters to stick out an eyeball to make sure the screams weren’t because an axe murderer was lurking in my building.  Then I tentatively took the few steps across the hall, leaving my door open and my body pointing back towards my door, in the event said axe murderer answered, in hopes that I’d be able to bolt back to the safety of my own unit and slam the door in his face.)

My across-the-hall neighbor opened the door, pale and shaking.  “Oh (gasp) my (pant) G-d (pant, gasp) it’s (pant, pant, gasp)…. a (pant, pant, gasp)… (pant, pant, gasp, pant, building up the suspense….) MOUSE!”

Dun DA DUN!  SCIENTIST TO THE RESCUE!

I cornered the mouse, trapped him on a dustpan, and picked him up by the tail to carry him outside where he scampered off to freedom (and by scampered to freedom, I probably mean someone else’s apartment, where he may meet his ultimate demise via a mousetrap).

On my way out, my neighbor caught her breath enough to tell me that I was her hero.

That’s right.  Disgruntled Julie: Saving Single DC Women from Eenie, Weenie Terrifying Mice.

Well, at least one technique from the lab is useful in a real world setting.

(I really don’t understand why people are so terrified of mice.  Does she look vicious?)