Still I soldier on. . .

And today my combat takes the form of writing a resume.

There are not words embodied with an adequate rancor and loathing to convey the level of distaste I have for this particular task. It is a foul and unpleasant thing to have to do.

I know eventually I'll need a resume that will get me a veterinary job, and there's a job out there, RIGHT NOW, that I'm going to apply for, even though I'm not technically qualified yet. I figure it can't hurt anything, and it might actually work in my favor somehow. I'm hoping to get away from my internship, which started out as an amazingly fun experience and has since morphed into a 12-hour-a-week waste of my time, since they don't allow me to DO ANYTHING! My practicum paperwork lists 208 tasks that I need to be rated on. (Yes, I counted them.) Some of them almost nobody actually does in a practicum, because they pertain to a species we don't usually care for, like horses or cows, but most of the other stuff is stuff I'll be expected to do in practice. At this point, slightly over HALFWAY through the practicum, I have performed exactly 23 of those 208 tasks. And one of those things is "maintain a professional demeanor," so it isn't like they're all specialized things!

The words "bite me" come to mind.

Yesterday the high point of my day was restraining a black lab while she vomited all over a colleague's hand.