stuffed every which way

woke up this morning feeling like the walking dead. Not really sure why, seeing as there wasn't anything too strange about yesterday other than the shift at the rehab centre. So did the morning minimum, slept in the bath, slept on the couch. Did the afternoon minimum, slept on the couch.

and somewhere in between the naps decided that I will try behave nicely for December, so that I have some good news for pdoc when he gets back next year. Which basically meant having a vodka and sushi blowout tonight, before I stop drinking for the month, and start going to gym. Seeing as I have already proved that the latter doesn't happen without having my ass kicked, I will sign up tomorrow with a personal trainer from the gym so that I cannot avoid going at least four times a week. Hey, had to shave my legs on Friday for the massage, and bought the track pants weeks ago. Only a pair of lightweight shoes still to get....

I really, really hope that adding the Eldepryl to the mix will propel me into feeling good. It worked for 6 weeks in 2005, so I'm as optimistic as I have been about anything since the f-ing wonder drug Parnate, almost two years ago. But without an iron-clad guarantee at least I should still have something positive to tell pdoc. If, of course, I don't collapse and die the first time the PT gets me on any kind of cardiac equipment, which is always a possibility. Will have to explain very carefully that when I say that I have to rest 3/4 of the way up the stairs to the gym, I am not joking at all. Shit. This is so not going to be fun.