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.