Damn the man!

Most of the time, I feel like whatever I want to do in lab is okay.   If I want to leave a cage of mice in the lab for three days, I do it.  If I want to pour a weird cocktail of PBS, PFA, Triton-X, and dry ice down the sink, I do it.  Why? Because it's really not a big deal.

Honestly, this is my normal state after being in lab for more than an hour:

Until the inspectors come.  The first time that I worked in a lab and the animal safety people came, I didn't know what to do.  So I just hid in the room that I was testing the animals in, hoping that they wouldn't want to disrupt my experiments just to check on how I was doing things.  

 

We had a health and safety inspection today.  Knowing that I am a walking safety hazard, I cleared out of lab for two hours. But once I came back, I began feeling horribly pathetic about my avoidance of authority.  So, to get back at the Man, I went re-labelled things in lab.

 

 

(By the way, this post gives tremendous insight into who I am as a person.  Most notably, the fact that I don't have feet.)