Ever have one of those days?

I haven't slept well or nearly long enough since sometime last week. I am cranky and exhausted and incredibly unproductive. My hip and leg still hurt despite plenty of icing. (Too much time sitting at my desk, I suspect.) My stupid eye is still bothering me. My next few projects for work make me want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon. Quincy, my older incredibly good dog, has been refusing exercise, so I took him to the vet yesterday afternoon, where she said, "He's sore" and prescribed painkillers. (He still refused the afternoon walk today.) I am worried about him.

I didn't even manage to do the weekly review post for this blog last night. The plan was to cook a nice dinner and then watch a movie with my husband; the kitchen was still a mess, so instead, we ended up grabbing something out and hurrying home so I could get back to work. I worked until well after 10:00 and went to bed, only to be awakened by said husband at 5:00 AM. Unable to get back to sleep and feeling headache-y, I got up and worked on one of the aforementioned please-just-kill-me-now projects until breakfast time...when I remembered that I forgot to take the trash and recycling out last night. After breakfast, I let the dogs into the backyard and hustled the trash can to the curb. I came back to get the recycling bins, and when I opened the gate to take them down the driveway, Tika (my younger wild-child dog) bolted out the gate and into the street. Ignoring my yelling, she then ran a block up the hill to greet two neighborhood dogs who were walking nicely on leash and not bothering her in any way.

I suppose I should be glad for all the miles I've been running, because I had no trouble sprinting up the hill, hoisting her little black-and-white butt off the ground with a snarl, and toting all 26 naughty pounds of her back home like a sack of potatoes. I was so angry and afraid of what could have happened to her--she just darted into the middle of the road and certainly could have been hit. Thank goodness we live on a quiet side street.

Once I had her back in the fenced backyard, I slammed the gate, dumped her unceremoniously on the ground, crumpled into a patio chair and cried my eyes out.

It's hard to believe I'm the same person who ran such a stellar ten miles on Saturday, because it has been pretty much one giant raspberry since then.

After walking the dogs (Quincy deigned to do a whopping half hour, so I dropped him off and continued on with Tika), I figured a nap would be just the ticket. But there's always something getting in the way--first, a phone message from my neighbor who only calls any more when she wants something: "I forgot my lunch on the dining room table and the dog will eat it. Could you go over there and move it out of her reach? Thanks." So I go over to rescue her lunch, only to see the bag and some empty Tupperware on the floor. Too late.

Just as I come back, the phone rings. One of my main clients. "You know that project you're working on? Well, we've got some other things coming in that we'd like you to take a look at instead...the current project doesn't really have to be back until next week." This is the second (or maybe third) time I've been interrupted while slogging through this long unpleasant thing. Every time I get a little momentum going, I have to stop and put out some more urgent brush fire instead. It's annoying and draining, but whatever. I tell the client to send me whatever he wants me to look at and I will get back to him after lunch.

My head is really hurting at this point. I finally get the phone ringers turned off and even put up a DO NOT DISTURB sign by the back door to fend off a few people who might stop by, darken the room as best as I can on a bright sunny day, and lay down.

I doze fitfully and have a much worse headache when I wake up shortly before noon. This sucks. I pop pills and put an ice bag on my forehead and hope to distract myself by reading The Perfect Mile, a nonfiction book about three guys in the 1950s all trying to be the first to break the four-minute mile. It's a good book and I am enjoying it, but I eventually have to put it down and turn out the lights because my head is hammering.

What really sucks is that I am supposed to go running with the girls tonight. Five miles at a new park I'd love to check out, followed by a cookout at Kelli's house, which sounds great, but there's no way I can run in this condition. Just walking to the computer to type out a quick message to them makes me feel queasy.

And then I grind my fist into my pounding head and try to blank out the universe. Just another red NOPE on the weekly review...

I'm going to bed. This day needs to come to an end as quickly as possible.