Po-tay-to... Po-tah-to

I hate balloons. Hate them. Hate the popping. Hate the squeeking. Hate the sound they make when they're being blown up. All of that tenses up every muscle in my shoulders and puts them somewhere up near my ears.

But I don't feel the same way about mylar balloons.

So today, when I arrived for my final rounds of my internship, and found balloons tied to my chair, I was grateful that I work in a hospital where only mylar balloons are allowed (latex allergies).

Especialy awesome was the largest of the balloons - a 3-foot-high Disney princess castle. And while some might call it a "medieval princess-brothel" I will call it a truly great parting gift*.


*that will be hitting me in the head during the entire 15-minute walk to class tonight.