My staff is driving me crazy. They were bickering at each other when the moon was full; the moon is new and they're bickering at each other still. Maybe it's just the extremes -- full moon, new moon -- a spring tide effect. I'll have to reassess at the quarter moon.

They were at each other all morning, and by "they" I mean Chase picking on Cameron, Cameron getting fed up and snapping back, and Foreman getting disgusted and moving to the other side of the table. They would be fine for a while, and then Chase and Cam would start in again, Foreman would snap at Chase, and it was just the whole damn thing all over again.

I ended up sending them to lunch by themselves; I had a raging headache and I wanted to be alone -- completely alone, no more nattering voices in the conference room. I really wanted to skip M&M today, but I don't dare -- it would be just another excuse for Vogler to ride Cuddy.

I'm actually surprised that Vogler hasn't cancelled M&M entirely. A bunch of doctors sitting around talking? That's two whole hours wasted -- two whole hours, every week, one hundred hours a year -- with no cure for cancer to show for it! You'd think this was some kind of teaching hospital or something!

To my surprise, my staff was waiting for me in our usual spot in the back. We sat sullenly through the presentation (cardiology was in the spotlight today.) When the meeting broke up, I left them at the refreshment table and told them I'd meet them back at the office and that I'd pick up the mail. Cameron looked all wounded -- usually she does it -- and Chase looked all confused, like this meant something. I lifted a couple of doughnuts, wrapped them in a napkin, and took off.

I took the long way, stopping by a vending machine for some candy on the way. Finally I got to our mailbox. DEPARTMENT OF DIAGNOSTIC MEDICINE.

I stared at the label for a while. Seeing that department title in print... once it was a dream come true. Now... I don't know. I just don't know.

I wish I could just go hide.

But I can't, so I pull the mail out of the box and lurch back off towards our little corner. When I get back, Cam and Foreman are already sitting at the table. Foreman is charting and Cam is tapping away at her laptop.

I hook my cane over my arm and start passing out the mail. Journal, journal, junk mail, something for me -- I tuck it between my fingers at the bottom of the stack -- flyers... I toss Chase's stuff in a pile at the end of the table.

Back to my own office. I put my doughnuts on my desk, lower myself into my chair, put up my feet, and start flipping through my own mail. There's an envelope from the Education Committee for the Medical Division. I open it. It's about Chase: he's been assigned a date to present at M&M. He's up at the end of May. I laugh a little. Funny how things work out. Well, I definitely can't fire him now, can I?

A request for a consult; I toss it to the side for later. My latest copy of the Journal de Instituto de Higiene y Medicina Tropical. Later.

Not too much longer till clinic time. I pull out my Game Boy, but just as I start feeling myself slipping into the game, I hear my door open. It's Cuddy, carrying a clipboard.

"Got a minute?" she asks.

"Not any more," I reply.

Funny, her look says. "Did you get the mail from the Education Committee?" she asks.

"I did."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to feel left out, so I have something for you, too." She hands me a folded paper and I open it. It's a form letter: my ACLS certification is up soon and I have to renew it. ACLS, for those of you not in the Secret Medical Club, stands for Advanced Cardiac Life Support, a.k.a. How To Run A Code: CPR, meds, algorithms. They test you every so often to make sure you know what you're doing. If you don't pass -- or don't take the test -- you lose your credential.

"Oh, God, Cuddy, do I have to?" I whine.

She crosses her arms. "Yes. You have to. And this would really, really be a good time for you to just get it done. On time. Without bribery, or my having to drag you down there. Look, there's lots of different renewal times, there's one at the end of the month. You just pick the one you want and I'll make sure you get in."

"All right. I'll look at my calendar and get back to you," I grumble. "But I'm not doing it unless they get a new manikin. A really hot one. And I want her in a bed, with silk sheets from the clean room."

"Yeah, I know how picky you are about your plastic women. I'm signing you up for the end of the month."

"Doesn't that fall on a clinic day?"

She smiles. "Lucky for you, the clinic's open five days a week. You can go heal the masses and still get it on with Ambu Annie on Friday! So don't worry. This won't be a crimp on your social life."

She hands me the clipboard with the sign-up sheet. I give her my best put-upon look and scrawl my signature.

She beams. "See? Easy. See you this afternoon."

I pull a face as she turns to leave. Great, she's sucked up my game time and now I do have to go to the clinic, where I will, of course, see her. I carefully lift my legs off the desk and take a Vicodin. I pause and take a deep breath before I get to my feet.

I really, really, want to just go hide.