waste of space once again

- all I did yesterday was see pdoc, and make an ass of myself by crying for the whole appt. Didn't even deliver parrots, so had to do that today. Dropped off three mynahs as well, and wasted the whole appt with tdoc by.....crying. If it frustrates me that I do it, can only imagine how annoying and boring it must be for them.

And still haven't started the project that needs to be just-about finished already, for the paying job. Am going to get my butt kicked on this one, badly.

what really exciting people do on a saturday night

1. Catalog the aches and pains from yesterday's training, where PT dude brought his slim and fit wife along because they were going somewhere afterwards. She was very sweet, and even laughed politely at some of my whining at PT. He also brought along the dreaded stepper and - for variety - a mat and large ball, which he used to great effect on a whole bunch of muscles that didn't hurt yet. Now they do.

2. Update the meds spreadsheet after pharmacy visit. Spreadsheet shows what I am supposed to take at what time, and is colour-coded for taken, have and have repeat owing at pharmacy. Only way I can keep track, especially when tapering up or down. Update meds list of what has been squirrelled away - on some of the two week issues, its easier/same cost for pharmacist to make it 15 days. The extra day, plus half the sedatives, get squirrelled straight away.

3. Update bird book (of cases at home) with additions, deaths and deliveries to the centre for the last two days. Have added - and lost already - two sick baby pigeons. A new mynah, but two had died. A goose with anaerobic poisoning. Three stray racing pigeons - normally the guys don't want them back if they have failed to finish, but I always try to track the owner anyway. Sometimes they are good breeding stock, even if they are lousy racers.

4. Finish off the last of the vodka, given that I am not strong-willed enough to either keep it or toss it out. Start the sober bit again on Monday, after New Year's wake.

5. And - shit shit shit - get a phone call from Andy-cat's mom to ask me to collect an abused dog in the morning, and to tell me that it seems that Nicky, the poison-eating cat, did it again and was found dead yesterday morning.

- so all round, not what I would call a fun or sociable night.....

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.

enough already

ok, think I've run out of energy - whether it was meds-induced or not. Still haven't worked that out. Maybe it was just making up for 4 months of solid sleep on the Nardil-and-others. Whatever it was though, it's gone.

I'm tired, I'm grumpy, I feel like I'm working my ass off doing other people's work, and all I get is crapped on about something else that I haven't gotten to yet. And my rescue dog has a long-term bone problem. And I didn't go to the bank today so I don't know if I got paid or not for last month, but I suspect from the mail I got from my "contract manager" that the answer is no. She conveniently went out straight after that, and didn't return calls. I don't even know if my boss got round to signing off on my timesheet, and guess what...he didn't return calls either.

Don't even think of telling me I should have gone and checked. I know I should have.
I saw t-doc, then I came home to take dog to the vet. Then I worked because I was worrying about dog. Then I stopped work because I am so pissed off with new development team manager and the snotty email he sent me. And then I had 3 glasses of wine with too much mince on toast for supper, so I feel really crap - drinking and this meds-combo doesn't mix at all, especially with rich food. And achieved nothing all evening except working myself into a total twist.

I hate this. I hate being bipolar. I hate being depressed. I hate being a total loser. Almost as much as I hate being a fat, ugly, boring, miserable total loser. Sometimes I want to stand up and scream - I got given so, so much in the way of advantages, way more than I could ever deserve. But to finish them off I got the mentally interesting bit that has compelled me to waste every single one of them.

In a reincarnation kind of way, I wonder whether the gifts that I am holding would go to other people if I die. I'd kill myself now if that were so. Except I guess that would mean some poor newborn loser would get the bipolar cherry along with their slice of life. Typical me - whichever way it goes it's a stuffup. And it's all my own fault too....