My stress level is not a happy camper lately. I move out in less than a week. I run a half marathon the following weekend. I'm behind on my training. My garage sale was a bust. I have too much stuff. No where to put it. My favorite room mate is going to be homeless if I don't help her find a place to live. My children are bored. My car is still not registered. And the only man who has my back is stuck in the midwest for the foreseeable future.
It's no wonder that as I drove over the bridge this morning to go for my first trail run in two weeks, I literally got the chills when I first saw Forest Park. I almost CRIED, you guys. My panic attacks have been tormenting me again and the only thing to blame is the HEAT and the CHILDREN (runblockers are even worse than cockblockers!). I only ran two miles last week. I'm almost to 20 miles in the last three days because I'm hoping that getting my mileage up again might salvage at least a little bit of my liver.
(Not that running helps much).
For a girl who spends an AWFUL lot of energy trying not to think about the future, I sure can't wait for the next ten days to be over. My to do list is so long it paralyzes me. I don't even know where to begin. My fingernails are stubs. Don't even THINK about my cuticles. Or the scale. (Don't stop running, people. IT ISN'T GOOD!)
Meanwhile, I get to be financially self-sufficient for the first time in... I dunno, it's been so long I can't remember. I celebrated with my first pair of trail runners and a new eyeshadow from Mac. I should be able to afford movers AND school supplies for my children this year. (THANK YOU VALERIE! My job is awesome!). Lola is getting real license plates (that SAY-YES). I wish I could appreciate how nice it is not living on the edge of a cliff, but I'm too busy living on the edge of a precipice to notice.
Send me some calm, people. And a place for my beloved Sage to call home. I'll never forgive myself if that girl ends up homeless. Never.