delivery day

...even though I was about 3 hours later than planned, semisane cat-buddy and I delivered 4 baby jackals to their release site an hour south of town, where they'll be hacked out for the next month. We also took a whole family of dassies (rock hyraxes) that were found in the engine of someone's car. Stupid cow thought she'd get them to leave by driving at top speed down the highway. Luckily the dassies hung on tight, so she then sent the car for a full valet clean - the garage were the ones who called us for assistance in removing 6 little biting creatures from the engine compartment. They got a great release site, and headed off into the bush at great speed.

Before that we dropped off the 4 surviving goslings, 3 swallows, an adult goose and two teeny Thick-knees at the centre. Last night's death toll was 2 goslings, a hadeda ibis killed by my dogs, a pigeon and Weeny one the mousebird. Bummer. Just call me rehabber-Kevorkian.....

just so tired

of feeling like shit. Enough already. Feels like whatever I do, there is always just more and more that I should have done already.

Birds increased by 3 baby swallows, 6 newborn goslings and two mynahs. Didn't kill any today.

Agreed to spend half of tomorrow driving four baby jackals to their new home. And IT boss wants me to check a whole lot of stuff as well.

Pdoc hinted - if saying straight out 'why don't you...' counts as a hint - that he'd like it if I did the hospital bit again. No way. Not at all by choice, and definitely not while duckbuddy is there. Dropping the Manerix, and trying Eldepryl again after a weeks washout. Hey, it worked for 6 weeks in 2005, so might as well. He wants the stash for his Christmas present, says I can keep 25, so I asked which 25, specifically, he would allow me. He thought about it and offered the multi-vitamins. Oh wow. And he wants me to see his rooms-sharing pdoc while he is away, which I'm not particularly keen on - she dislikes me because of birds, and I feel intimidated by her.

Ha bloody ha....I feel intimidated by almost everything, except for the things that just make me feel straight-out useless. I agree to doing things because I can't think fast enough of a reason not to, and then I end up lying and faking so that I can just hide away at home. If I was anyone else in my life, I'd figure I wasn't worth the effort - it surprises me that that doesn't happen more often than it does.

mixed bag

the bad bits started with losing two mynahs, the teeny-tiny pinky and a sparrow with probable spinal injury this morning. Followed by fetching a fat feral squab with a huge infected canker, so had to euthanase him. And more text messages from DB. I can't be outrightly nasty to her, because I do care. Yesterday she sent me a message asking me to come have coffee. I eventually replied a few hours later to say that I didn't think it was a good idea for either of us. She asked if I was sure. Today she says that she's sorry about messages but can't stop thinking about us when we met in the hospital, and am I sure about coffee. Yeah, I guess I am. Sure that I just can't go through a friendship that is more intense than most affairs, that I now know in advance will just end up hurting. I am just as much at fault. Maybe it's that I'm too old to volunteer for another round of pain. Besides...even if she's forgotten what she said, I haven't. And probably won't for a long, long time. Why would she want to be friends with an asshole loser, anyway.

Good bits were taking all three remaining mynahs to their new homes - one as Suzy reincarnated. It's done, so I will have to keep that secret for ever, but I think it was probably the right choice. Even if it was dishonest of me. The other two went to a friend of the home where one of them was rescued from the roof. I'd taken both to meet him, and when he saw them he immediately begged to take the two together. Which - blush - was actually my intention. Mad mynah daddy has demonstrated to me that mynahs seem to be more settled when there are a couple of them, and it doesn't seem to stop them from having strong human relationships too. And Shrekkie the mousebird is still healthy and happy, as are his buddies Pool Noodle and Weeny One. Not of course that they will ever know that they have names, but it makes it easier for me to keep track and feed etc. And canoodle too....

Other good bits to share are two new blog-links, both scrounged shamelessly from Lara B at Red,red whine. Nabbalicious writes beautifully and takes awesome pictures. And JR is so funny that my dogs have been woken up to come and see why mommy is howling. Heck, her folks are almost as funny in their comments on her posts. So - two very different but excellent blogs for your enjoyment. Shit, you deserve a reward for reading this one...

four or five months still

of baby season and everything that goes with that. Two years still of paying job in its current format, but boss has already said that his main reason for making me support other clients is so that I am committed to the team for longer, and have all the options available. Forty years or so still of living with myself somehow.

If I can't see how I get to next winter without sucking hosepipe, the prospect of eternity with myself is very uninviting. The things that could make a difference? None of them are things that I have any control over. And the more I try to change that, the less likely they are to happen. Actually, even thinking of them is probably enough to put a hex on them for eternity.

Born loser. I don't even want to detail the number of things I have screwed up today, which was - in terms of what/how many stuff-ups I made - pretty much an average day. Let's just say that every day contains more of them than even the most masochistic would want to put up with. And I have always had a really low pain threshold.

Think it's time to take meds and go to bed. In spite of the extra Remeron, I sleep really badly. Wake up and get out of bed every 90 mins. Wake up without getting up about every 60 mins. Scare myself stupid with what I wake up from on most of those. Scare the kitties almost as often. But hey, as revenge, bath-naps are unwakeable up from, no matter how I try. Asswipe loser forever, I guess....

monday bloody monday

late for everything the entire day, only because I am so completely disorganised. I mean shit, by now I KNOW that it takes me at least 30 mins to feed the birds before I go out. So I stuff around on the net and allow 15 mins, and then race around getting all hot and sweaty and being late. Asswipe.

Took the mealworm-vultures AKA the fiscal flycatchers back to their home today. Just in time....my mealworm culture might recover eventually. And three sparrows including cuddle-bunny, the thrush and the sick mynah through to the centre. But traded them for a mousebird friend for Shrekky - and then stole another two as well. Pic is of Shrek biting his sparrow-friend's bum. Really. A micro-second later the sparrow squawked and leaped forward, but they went to sleep cuddled up together anyway. Home via two vets, dropping off a broken legged barbet for surgery, and a bullfrog with a shattered jaw at the reptile specialist. Here long enough to feed everyone, and then up to the local vet to fetch a teeny pinky. Back home to feed everyone again, and get another mousie in. And there are three birds waiting for collection tomorrow.

And I decided to go with the replacement-Suzy. I know it's lying, but mynah mommy is distraught about the bird, and I just can't tell her it died. The ringer is the same age - might actually be Suzy's sibling - and would need a good home anyway. I don't view the birds as interchangeable objects, but in this case...

After duck buddy's message yesterday, I ended up texting tdoc in panic. She gave sensible answer saying that I need to set limits so that I don't get hurt again. Haha. Just getting the message made it all hurt. Reading it was worse. Having to decide what to do - even if it was nothing - was a tailspin. My fake personality is funny and outgoing enough that people are mostly friendly to me, but there are very few that I really trust enough to not pretend with. And DB was right up at the top of that list. Eventually I took tdoc's advice, sent an arb message saying sorry that she wasn't well and hope she gets better soon. And then got very, very drunk and cried a lot.

Wow. I am such a mature grown-up person. Not.

text messages from hell

- first lot from mynah mommy, who has plunged into despair over Suzy. When I woke up this morning, I had decided that telling her that Suzy had died was the right thing. Now I'm not so sure. Suzy had only been with her for 5 days, so a substitution would probably be unnoticable. And it would stop MM from being convinced deep down that if she was a better parent it wouldn't have happened - no matter how many times I tell her that nothing she did could have influenced it, and that Patsy, the other bird is fine and healthy still.

- second was from duckbuddy. Almost exactly three months since I last heard from her. Says she is doing badly and is back in hospital, and that she still feels bad about the things she said. I haven't replied yet - which in itself could be seen as nasty - because I don't know what to say. Hearing from her just ripped the scab straight off of what I'd thought was something in the past. Don't want to go there again. She knows exactly how to hurt me, and uses that knowledge. And I'm just too close to the edge already. At the same time, I wanted to rush to the hospital and see her, and tell her that I care about her and want her to be OK. Guess that just shows how totally dumb I can be sometimes....

lies and dead babies

....took Suzy's body to the vet for a post-mortem this morning. From the initial exam, it seems that she might have died of iron-storage disease, which is known to affect mynahs and softbills. What isn't known is an effective way to prevent it or treat it if it develops. Research shows that the same percentage of birds within a species develop it on both a low-iron and a normal diet. It does seem though to be common in certain family groups, so it's possible that a genetic predisposition to the disease can be triggered by diet. Seems that about the only treatment is bleeding the bird every two weeks. This makes it anaemic, and when new blood cells are produced, iron is pulled from the liver to make the new cells. Sounds archaic, but logical. Just don't know if I'd want to subject a bird to twice-monthly blood drawings.

Not of course, that it matters to Suzy. She's dead.

Chatted to the vet as well about not telling mynah-mommy about the bird dying, and returning 'Suzy' in a few days. I have another of about the same age, and any character difference could be explained by the vet trips and treatment. Not really ethical, I know, but I'm certain that it was nothing to do with her care of the bird. And she is absolutely devastated by Suzy's illness. She's the sort of person who blames herself for anything that goes wrong, she's already beating herself up about the mousebird from last weekend who wasn't able to be released, and I just don't have the heart to tell her that one of her darling babies has died. Vet reckons it's a mynah and they are all arrogant, domineering little beasties anyway...

The two little pinkies that had survived from Tuesday both died today. Shit shit shit. After 4 days, I care too much for them already. Still have one pinky, picked up on Weds. Looking ok, but let's not count him before he gets feathers and flies away - hatching is not quite certain enough. Pic is of him, species unknown so far.

damn it all to hell and back....

....mad mynah buddy phoned last night in a panic; Suzy the smaller of the two mynahs that I homed with her last week was limping and unhappy. I said I'd come see the bird this morning. Before I was even out the bath, she phoned in full-on terror. Suzy was unable to stand, and looked paralysed. I picked her up on the way to tdoc, dropped her at bird-vet and went back to fetch her an hour later. Bird-vet reckoned spinal, but no obvious cause, either injury or infection. Gave antibiotics and cortisone, plus more for tonight, and asked to see her in the morning.

Suzy died just after 4pm this afternoon.

Haven't told mynah buddy yet, just can't work out how to. I am more worried that it is something I did wrong with raising her than anything new mom might have done. But I know it will break her heart. So much so that I have even considered sending another bird back to her in a few days and pretending that it is Suzy. Am taking her body for a post-mortem tomorrow, so guess I will hold off on saying anything until I can hopefully know why.

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Losing babies within a few days is almost expected even if we still grieve. Losing one after weeks, when it is feeding and charming and flying... it's a lot of why I stopped doing daily shifts and have never started again. Too many little bodies that I'd started loving already. Still happens at home anyway....

So yesterday pdoc tells me to listen to Jeff Buckley singing 'Hallelujah', which I did last night, and have played many more times since. Looked up Buckley, who I'd never heard of before. Okaaaay. Apart from singing beautifully, he's dead. Told his girlfriend that he thought he was Bipolar. Then drowned 'accidentally' the next night, while swimming in a river fully-clothed and singing along to Led Zep on the radio - the estate says there was nothing mysterious about his death. Umm...going for a night swim with your steel-toed boots on??

Not sure if pdoc knew the BP and dead bits before mentioning Buckley to me. We did have a bet on something last year based on me guessing a particular singer who had killed himself, who pdoc really rated. I came up with a shortlist of about 30 possibles including the answer: Ian Curtis of Joy Division. I figure he might have known, but the song is so awesome anyway.

Add one more to the list of bipolar, talented....and dead.

mortification

I really, really hate it when I go see pdoc and just sit there crying. Which covers most of today's appointment. The rest was wishing that I could talk properly when I feel like this - it's easy to fake it and talk crap about anything, and I try not to ever do that with him or tdoc ...the whole false layer on top that I have developed for most people - instead of mumbling semi-coherent bits about 'enough already'. And having to acknowledge that once again I have done none of the things I should, and many of the ones I shouldn't. Haven't gone to gym, brought him my med stash, woken up happy, eaten regularly, gone to bed on time. Have hit the vodka a bit too much.

So, try again this week. If I can stop crying long enough. And shave my legs.

Meds for the week stay the same, apart from going up from 60mg Remeron to 90mg, and then maybe cutting back on the sedative ones, both the Ambien and the Neurontin. Just looked back in notes though, and found that last time he tried to up Remeron, at 75mg I slept half the day while still sleeping badly at night. The Pexola is higher now though, so that might make a difference. Then he asked whether I'd ever tried any of the opiates - answer is not yet. But I would, now, if they were on offer. He reckons 'no' because of abuse and addiction potential being too high, says 'you would have a couple of good months and then a huge crash and all the possible complications...' And all I could say was "I'd take it. A couple of good months. Better than anything else in just about three years". I would too....

ouch....

for an 8-hour sleep/night person, I seem to be awake for way too many 02h00s lately. Which goes together with three almost guaranteed corollaries :

1. I must still get up by 07h00 at the absolutely way-latest for morning feeds;
2. if I am still awake by 22h00, it means alcohol is involved;
3. so who gives a fuck anyway.

Today could probably count as good by recent standards - facilitating delivery/release of a whole bunch of birds. Only having to euth one pigeon, for a 99% likely spinal injury. Not killing any babies.

I still spent at least half of it wishing I wasn't. There's a very, very short list of things that could make me want to live - like one - and I know that the chances of it ever happening is way below zero. Really. More chance of snow. (It does snow here, too. Minutely this year. 1981. 1967. So snow in JHB is possible....) Failing that, the meds might work. Ha bloody ha. Really, really wish they would, not only for me - although that is enough of a dream - but also because it would please pdoc. And that in turn would make me even happier.

Compared to the shortlist that would probably be livable for regardless of meds, there's a whole bunch that would count as enough of a reason not to. Those are all far more likely to happen anyway, even without me pushing my chances. Like getting fired from paying work or volunteer job. Reckless catches of poisonous and biting beasties. All sorts of risky bits that I can do without fear, because I would almost welcome it if they happened. Which in turn means that they never will.

I don't swallow the weaseled-away collection of meds even though I want to...because of my animals, my family, my docs. Can't remember when last I thought it was a good thing that the one previous attempt didn't work, but I often wish that it had - many times, every day. I take chances with sensibility and safety just about as often, without even considering them, because all I need is one good reason. Just one....

repeat....it's only tuesday

thought I was semi-organised today. Then some silly woman screwed up the schedule by making me wait for twenty mins, before hunting for a bird (large) in her garden that "couldn't fly at all". Guess what lady...after you, me, your daughter, and finally - at my request - your two dogs cannot find a single feather of said bird anywhere in your entire, well-secured and very overgrown garden...it probably can. It probably just didn't feel like doing it earlier.

So after that little bit of futility, I was later than I wanted to be to collect the heron and take him through to bird-vet for a second opinion. As I thought, he was euth'd - dislocated elbow and wrist, nerve damage, necrosing carpals, skin and feathers trashed. But while I was there I managed to add 3 less-than-a-day-old weavers. They'd bombed out of the nest (which probably means parasites or ants in there) and straight into a swimming pool. House-owner saw them and leaped in fully-dressed to rescue them. Good lad. Thumbsuck? One out of the three will survive.

And because I hadn't gotten to bird-vet before consulting started, I had to wait for almost an hour. Which made me 15 minutes late for t-doc (SMS'd her while racing through to say I was late). So we overran by 30 mins, talking about my current complete lack of any faith in anything ever working to fix this crap. And, of course, the past few days office-design for shrinks, as per the posts and comments on Shrink Rap - Gerbil, tdocs here also have a course on the deep psychological meaning of where you put your chairs. The SA twist, of course, is that rule # 1 is that even a tdoc with a relatively placid middle-class practice should always sit closest to the door. Just in case.

So I still haven't gotten to the gym. Or shaved my legs....

fuuuuuccckkk!! it's only monday

and this week has already been too long. Nothing exciting. Heron will probably be euth'd tomorrow. Gained another 3 pigeons and a sparrow. Sent 3 doves to the centre with semisane catbuddy. Yawned the whole day, and wide awake now. Worked out that it is exactly 2.5 years since I last had sex. Cheated on my diet in terms of both food and vodka on the first day.

I really, really despise and loathe myself. With many good reasons....

weirdo things for the day

1. Blogger finally started accepting the tick in the little box that says 'remember me'. After about six months of ticking it every day. Yeehaw!! This is so awesome to me that I realise I am now officially a total and complete loser. I mean shit, when something like this excites you to delirium, what else can you possibly be, apart from a total loser?

2. Quote for the day. Only in South Africa. Story about a bunch of robbers who attacked a farm, killed one of the farm workers by hitting him on the head with a piece of iron and shot the farmer twice. So, the police spokesman says:
"...four of the five armed men were arrested by police and the community after the incident. One of the men seems to have committed suicide and fell into a nearby river."
And while I think that assholes like that should most definitely fall into rivers, I couldn't help but start laughing at the 'seems to have' quote. Preferably they should fall into the river with about 100kg of iron tied close to the neck.

3. I can't even remember how many nights I have been on call for, or when it got bad. Think the bad bit started last weekend, and kind of think that both the customers who are having issues are not actually issues caused by the DBA team or software. But I am too stupid to be able to prove it, so until my team leader is back at work on Monday, I will have to live with callouts at 20h00, 23h00, 02h00 and 05h00. And with not being able to prevent them because I am an idiot.

4. Bird homing for the day: 3 mousebirds to mad mynah lady for release in her garden, and two mynahs to live with her. Bird gain for the day: 4 doves from assorted places. Oh, and two flycatchers from yesterday, who have now eaten my entire mealworm culture plus half of cat-ladies scroungings. Tomorrow I go shopping. For mealworms. God, my life is so exciting. Bird in transit: a heron with a broken wing. Got the call. Thought about my current level of bird-chasing skills, and phoned goose-chasing buddy to help out. The understanding was that I hold her baby while she leaps on birds. I'm crap at holding babies, but my skills at that are stupendous compared to my running after fast birds. Dropped him off at vet friend for assessment. Probably a euthanase, but I didn't want to make that call.

5. What I've spent about the last 3 hours doing: reading the blogs from a blogswap, one of whom was Red red whine. Found three amazing new blogs who have made me read for hours, but will need to ask permission before I link to them. Tomorrow, once I've finished reading their archives back to when blogger was invented.

Wow. Saturday nights used to mean dates and having fun. When did I get so goddamn old...

dumber and dumber

as I get further away from working fulltime. Only 3 1/2 years since I was doing this fulltime and could remember everything I needed to know about 6 different clients - different signons, naming conventions, places to hide things...all at my fingertips. Now I can't even remember the basic commands for the software I support.

Make that about #50 on the list of 1000 reasons to hate myself even more.....

now i know for sure....

...that I am truly not the weirdest person around. I can't remember where I saw the link first, but just got a response to a query, and have now placed an order. The site is CofaniFunebri, an Italian firm of undertakers, who produce - wait for this - a calendar of pinup girls with coffins. Now that is honestly something I would never ever have thought of.

Have ordered one for myself, and one for p-doc too. It will be worth the subsequent explanations to see the look on his face.

Besides, if they won't take my corpse to feed to lions, I'd elect to be cremated anyway...

silly season

subtitled 'artichoke and cherry' season. Those being two of my all time favourites, and both have incredibly short find-them-fresh seasons in JHB. So as a result, after a week or so of dithering about the high prices, I realise that they won't get any less expensive and dive in while they are still around. Have now eaten artichokes for the last 5 meals. Hot. Cold. With hollandaise and creme fraiche and mayonnaise. And am wondering whether I can actually face another day of green stuff without puking. They're vegetables, ergo they must be good for me. Just wish I could put them into suspended animation for a few months, until my appreciation for them has been renewed...

appraisal and all

so apart from collecting two sparrows at separate vets, and a white pigeon somewhere else.....saw t-doc this morning. She figured it was a multi-purpose appointment; firstly to persuade me not to tell manager to f-off, then to make sure that I got there on time and lastly as a normal session. I really adore her - she is just such a warm, caring person. When I grow up, I'd like to be.... Yeah. Right. I wish.

And after that, the PA was a walkover. I got a really good rating, although that doesn't mean much as a contractor. Wasn't nasty to boss, although that actually didn't worry me too much. He is terribly sweet, and if he wasn't my boss, I'd be quite fond of him. It's just that as a manager he is totally ineffectual, and I think team leader and I scare him too. She and I are both very experienced, good at the work, drink, swear and smoke (all of them more than we should) and - at work - are both somewhat tough. It was the era we were formed in, mostly, when a woman in our positions then needed to be better than any of the guys, at everything. From going to the pub with the team, to doing call outs at midnight, and, above all, making ourselves known and rated as not being girly. Programmers could cry, DBAs couldn't. Not implying that any of it was such a good idea - it was just how it was.

But still, think boss is a bit nervy of both of us. Starting with the bit about knowing that neither of us would want his job, ever - it would mean too much admin and kissing ass, and way too many meetings. So, as long as we keep being good at what we do, not being promoted isn't any kind of incentive to conform. TL got a low rating on meeting attitude, and told him 'great, now stop making me attend so many of them'...I didn't even have that as a KPA! I mentioned the meeting on Thurs that I refused to attend...he told me that he agrees with me about not going and will do his best to put my points across. And that I can always feel free to rant to him if I can just please try not to tell anyone out of the data centre how stupid they are. He also told me that in a way he appreciates me getting angry about things, because he sees that as being an indicator of client-centricity, and that that is key to being a good data-centre DBA. So...as long as I document my major client's database environment some time before March next year, all is well. Guess what he hasn't yet realised is the fact that I care about my one client, I care that they aren't getting the service that they deserve, I care about my reputation with a handful of people in the industry - almost all of whom don't work for my employer - and I'm rather fond of getting large amounts of money for being skilled and available almost all the time. None of the above is enough to stop me from saying what I think. I don't need the job, but it sort of suits me to have it for a while. And while being fired would not be good for my ego, it wouldn't hurt my reputation, doesn't make me behave any better, and doesn't make me dress better either!

Last week, I mentioned the appraisal to p-doc, and said that the data centre and H/O management were pissing me off enough that I didn't see it going too well. So he asked what I was going to do about it, and was astounded when I said that I would bill them double for the annoyance factor. I've told my boss that as well...anything I regard as a waste of time, he gets billed for twice as many hours. P-doc thought that was rather desirable, albeit strange. Dress code.... well, suffice it to say that I am the only person who is expected at work in denims, flip flops and a tshirt. If it's a formal meeting I mostly wear baggy, open-necked shirts. And if it's a very formal meeting, then I try (between Sept and Apr) to not bring more than one basket of birds.

Actually, having this job is probably good for me. If I think about the amount of crap they take without firing me, I have to figure that maybe I am worth something. Somehow......

And I still haven't taken birdy pictures.

feather-floods

through to the centre again to fetch another two mynahs..... Another two. For a total of seven now, although one is a bit weaker than I'd like. And as I was collecting them, eleven feral pigeons arrived. A building that is being renovated, and the builders were seen throwing the babies off the tenth floor. Some people are really not worth keeping. The rest of the errands were fetching 3 hedgehogs of about two days old and delivering them to their new mum, and collecting a baby robin. Half the babies went with me, and in between trips out, I rushed home to feed the rest. Didn't get round to taking pics of anyone, because in between feeds I was collapsing on the couch until the next summons. And tomorrow is t-doc, performance appraisal at the paying job and the dentist. Haha, being out for 4 hours in the morning means that 21 birds will have to go to work with me. Should give my boss an idea of priorities.....

too sweet

back through to the centre again today to fetch another two Indian mynah babies, these two only about ten days old. I have the five of them in a basket together, and when I checked just now they were lying in an overlapping huddle. Wings and beaks everywhere, so that one can't actually count how many birds there are in there. Must remember to take pics tomorrow, after a feed. And before as well, when the bird layer disappears behind huge, yellow mouths.

And Weevil the white-eye has decided that she is now a Big Bird, all 1.5 inches of her. She screams loudly for food but then refuses to be fed from the syringe, and dances around the cage instead. This afternoon I found an acceptable compromise. If I drip food mix onto the floor, she is prepared to pick up a few drops herself, but because she takes so little at a time she demands to be fed every twenty minutes. Oy veh... teenagers...

slowing down

rehab boss phoned to see if I could bring something through to the centre today, and mentioned that the assistant manager had had no volunteers at all show up, after she'd been off sick all week already. So, after I'd washed the babies and then waited ages for them to dry off, I took 16 pigeons and 4 mynahs through to their new home, and then went in to see if I could be useful. I was, a bit. But I am soooo slow, compared to how I used to be when I was doing it more regularly. Last feeds require a rythmn, a level of organisation and movement that I just don't seem to have any more. By the time I got home, I had barely enough energy to get out of the car and feed the very indignant cats and dogs.

If this is what I'm like now, god only knows how useless I'd be if I ever get to 50...

metaphorical marathon

even when I was at peak fitness I was never much of a runner, and seriously doubt if I could actually run around the block now. But I feel as if I've been running myself silly all week. And just never catching up. Out of 14 appointments/arrangements since Mon, I have been late for all but one. I've driven just over 1000 kilometres. Fetched and dropped off a whole bunch of birds, killed a few, accumulated more. Will take twenty-two to their new homes tomorrow, which still leaves me with 7 needing hourly feeds, two on bi-hourly, 6 that would sell their siblings for the chance to have a feeding tube down their throats again but who all can actually eat by themselves, and another three who are long term care but feed themselves. Have chased two bunnies around a parking lot three times (and completely failed at catching them), chased and caught a goose, taken 18 tortoises, 4 jackals, a terrapin and a hedgehog out to a conservancy area for release. Missed an appt with tdoc because I got totally lost in a really scuzzy area (and even her calling me back with map in her hand couldn't get me out of wherever I was fast enough to still get there in time) and been reminded that pdoc is only ever running on time when I'm not. Have been five minutes or less late three times in two and a half years, and those are about the only three times that he's been running on time. Cried for 40 minutes through my nieces operetta at school, where she had one of the main singing parts. Told my paying boss that I wouldn't come to a meeting because it was pointless and a waste of time, and then remembered that I have my biannual performance appraisal next week. Guess that means I will not score well on anything to do with attitude towards management. The clients love me, which might balance that a bit. Am just about to run out of coffee and cigarettes because every time I remember that I have to go shopping, I have baby birds in the car and would rather get them home. And the bloody Hindu's are celebrating Diwali with a never-ending barrage of fireworks, which has two of the dogs in hysterics, and half the birds so upset that they won't sleep, so can't even go to the all night shop now.

Just want to go to sleep. Enough already. Somehow I don't think the Manerix,Remeron,Neurontin, Inderal and Ambien combo is doing much positive yet. Just don't know anymore if any of the meds are ever going to. I know what I should be doing, like going to gym (sorry Aqua, not yet, just haven't had time or energy this week), not drinking (doing ok on that except for family dinner on Monday and yeah, that was one of the things I was late for). And pdoc came up with a new one this week: joining Toastmasters. Fat chance, or should that be no chance. He still doesn't believe me when I tell him most people think I talk too much, told me yesterday that if he did a wordcount per halfhour session, I wouldn't even be on the same page as most of his female patients. Used to be that I didn't talk in meetings or give speeches or lectures, but that was one of the good things I got from demonic ex-BF. He kind of manipulated me into a high-profile job, and because it was important to me to impress him, I ended up doing the public speaking enough to get comfortable about it. Until the relationship ended badly, and then along with eventually dropping out of the industry entirely, drinking way too much for way too long and failing at killing myself, I started stuttering. Fun and games....not.

stolen trivia

from Lara over at Red Red Whine, last week. A whole bunch more things that you didn't really want to know about me.....

What makes you happy?
Not much at the moment…umm. Laughing gas at the dentist, sleeping with the cats, getting baby birds big enough to release

What are your favorite stores?
Bookshops

What’s the best cheesy song?
I Would Do Anything by Meatloaf

What’s the best apology song?
Sorry Love Daddy by Brian McFadden

What’s a truly beautiful love song that you’d never roll your eyes at if it was played at a wedding?
Everything I Do by Bryan Adams

What song are you embarrassed to like?
Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi. Only because everyone else seems to think it’s so naff

What are your favorite songs?
Mostly folk and soft rock. But pretty eclectic – my collection contains some of just about everything except jazz and gospel. And rap/hiphop, although I’m not too convinced that those actually count as music

What’s your favorite song to hear when you’re out on the town?
Been a long time, but HAS to be It’s Raining Men. Ok, maybe that one should also embarrass me

What song makes you cry?
One? Nah, more like at least three hundred

What’s your latest happy musical discovery?
Also thanks to LaraB, Josh Ritter. Have bought and downloaded a whole bunch of his songs, best one to date is Wings

What’s your worst habit?
I say rude things to other drivers. Mostly while I’m not looking at them, just in case they get pissed off and shoot me. And a whole lot of others that I am just not going to admit to

What’s annoying you right now?
Depression that has lasted way too long. Being fat. My boss at the paying job – actually, make that most of the management structure there.

Why did your past relationships not work?
My fault mostly, although I’ve ended all of them except one. I’m hard to live with, as well.

If you could have a romance with any fictional character, who would it be?
Alex Delaware in Jonathan Kellerman’s books

Which month of the year do you think best suits you?
Any of the ones that aren’t too hot because I hate being all sweaty. And any of the ones that aren’t too cold because I hate having to wear shoes. (My mother would want me to put my footwear or lack of it down under bad habits as well). So here, that normally leaves me March, April, May, September and sometimes October

Are you attracted to people whose personalities are very similar to your personality or very different?
Different mostly, it’s bad enough having to live with myself never mind anyone similar to me

You’ve won $100,000 but you have to give it all away. To which charity or institution would you donate it?
Easy – to the wildlife rehab centre I work for and the animal rescue group I’m also involved with

If you could switch lives with anyone for a day, who would it be?
My rehab boss, to see if she feels as amazing from the inside as she appears

If you had to pick one book to recommend, what would it be?
Can’t choose. Can’t even narrow it down to my favourite 100.

Who are you attracted to but you’re a little embarrassed to admit it?
Very embarrassed, not just a little. My dentist but I’m blaming it all on the nitrous oxide

If you could be on a reality show (from Survivor to Dancing With the Stars to Top Chef), which one would you be on and why?
Meerkat Manor so that I could show them more realistically, and stop people from wanting them as pets

What TV shows do you watch every week?
None

What are your five favorite meals?
Sushi/sashimi. Grilled chicken thighs in honey and mustard marinade. Deep-fried calamari. Artichokes with crème fraiche or hollandaise sauce. Smoked salmon trout with lemon and cream cheese.

What are your five favorite non-blog websites?
Cybershrink, Medscape, Google, Drugs.com, Wikipedia. Yes, I know I’m weird

What song will you always get up and dance to?
None, unless I’m seriously drunk. I’m a really bad dancer. At home alone… I’m Not In Love by Enrique Iglesias

yawn

long day, starting with baby feeds, including a few overnight visitors. One baby crow, who scared the pants off the mynahs when he cawed loudly - probably the only bird that does scare a mynah. Kind of like a bigger, stronger, louder version of themselves. And a baby hadeda ibis, who had to be wrestled down and force-fed. At 06h30, I'm not great on wrestling matches.

And then off to the dentist - 40 mins of gas while he did disgusting sounding things to a back tooth, and I just lay there making happy noises every now and again. Home for a nap, and then off to the vet with crow-baby, then to see tdoc. She figures that the gas is good for me, that I sounded more ok than I have for ages. I agree. Getting completely stoned legally definitely improves my mood. And - yay! - he has to wait before finishing the tooth, so I get more on Monday. Tdoc reckons I should ask pdoc to prescribe it for me, seeing as it does more than any of the other meds - if I had my hand on the controls though, I'd probably never actually get out of bed. Just lie there breathing deeply every now and again.....

Finished off by dropping crow, ibis and a dove off at the centre, taking another mousebird nestling for my baby-basket and then driving out to release a whole bunch of coots, tortoises, a hedehog and the dassie (rock hyrax) that I trapped last week. Ten days of good food hadn't improved his mood at all, and he made it very clear that he would still like to bite any portion of my anatomy that he could reach.

Seeing as I have to be up at the crack to go do another snake-catching course, guess bed is a good idea. I signed up for it mostly for a bit more catching practice, and hopefully some ID tips - maybe get comfortable enough with catching that I don't swear subvocally for the entire duration, and very vocally when I mess up!