After the call, I'm going over to the fire house to be fitted for new turnout gear... Although the stuff I have was new when I got it, it's poorly fitting. When they gave it to me, they said that I could get new gear when I took FF1 (since the stuff has to fit right when I go into practical exercises involving real fires), and here I am. I asked the chief if I had to get the same crappy Canadian stuff I have now (sleeve cuff ripped the first time I put it on, and not from sizing); he said I can get whatever I want as long as it isn't nicer than his. Very generous of him, really. Other than being an EMT, I'm an asset to the department in that I'm one of only several people that go to every call and meeting they can regardless of lack of excitement factor, so I guess he thinks I'm worth it. So, Globe GX-7, here I come.
I went to a medical call at an 89-year-old frequent-flier's house this morning... Nose bleed. Again. No transport. Again. I got up at 6:00 to go over there. Again. He had it under control. Again. I like the coot, but I wish he'd get his nose bleeds later in the day.
When I got back from the client site this morning, O2 was running around naked. I pointed out that Rabid and I were both wearing clothes, and that it was winter. He was unmoved. Then he asked to borrow a pair of scissors. I told him that using scissors without pants could result in a bad accident; he thought for a moment and requested pants.
It made me think of O1... When he was a little older than O2 is now, Rabid told him that he should wear underwear to limit the chance of catching his, um, boyhood in the zipper. It didn't get him to wear underpants, but he wore his pants backwards after that for almost a year.