At long last: the weekend. Not just "a" weekend, but The Weekend: my first weekend in a month that I've had no responsibilities other than those assigned by my own conscience. (My mother remarked on the phone that it was like I was in medical school or something! Sigh.)

A month behind on all domestic responsibilities adds up quickly. My laundry has long outgrown the mesh baskets it usually inhabits until it can be cleaned and has puddled on the floor beside the over-stuffed aforementioned hampers. My dishes are all dirty - every last one of them. (I ruthlessly culled any semblance of excess when I made the last trip back North and have five each bowls, plates, spoons, forks and knives. I have one mixing bowl, one skillet, one saucepot, one pair of tongs, one spatula and one serving spoon. My splurges are one can opener, one cutting board and three - gluttony, I tell you! - kitchen knives.) The floors need a date with the vacuum desperately.

For all that I hope to accomplish this weekend, I will have to do it all over again in two weeks time in preparation for my last overly demanding rotation (or so I hope): small animal medicine. Like surgery, it will consume every last waking minute I have and I have no doubt that the chaos that is my little apartment will soon rear its ugly head again. But for now, on quiet Diagnostic Services, I can regather the pieces at leisure.