Welcome to Suck-Town

Heading off to Tasmania on Thursday, so I guess I should be packing my bags right now. Instead, I’m eating popcorn and watching Total Recall.

Yup. Quality time wastery. What can I say? It’s my specialty. I’ve been determinedly virtuous all year so far (7 days, a good enough record). Eating well, exercising, TV and computer off by 9, in bed by 10… But I’ve got too many worries in my head to be Little Miss Perfect tonight. In fact, I think I may well go and pour myself a gin.

I know it’s counterproductive to worry about things that you can’t change. Funnily enough, knowing that won’t help me stop. Here’s a brief summary:

1. On Saturday, I did a bunch of squats and lunges and jump squats and jumping jacks and a whole lot more of the leg-punishing variety. My legs still hurt like a bitch, and they’re still stiff. I mean… Still? Are you frigging kidding me? I did some yoga yesterday and it was seriously uncomfortable. I don’t know why my legs are still messed up.
2. The Tasmania bushfires. I don’t know what the current state of affairs is over there, but at the very least it may be smoky on race day. I hate to admit it, but for a few short minutes I hoped that the race would be cancelled so I wouldn’t have to do it. The fact that it isn’t cancelled makes me sad, and it makes me sad that it makes me sad. And so on and so forth.
3. I don’t think I trained enough. Actually, scratch that. I KNOW I didn’t train enough.

I’m going to finish my gin, and I’m going to finish this movie, and then I’m going to go and lay out all my clothes on the floor and try to figure out what I’ll be wearing in Tasmania. Then I’m going to find my e-book reader charger. If I had a cigarette, then I’d probably smoke it. But I don’t have any cigarettes, and that wouldn’t be very good for my running ability in any case.

Maybe when I’m packing, I’ll start to get excited about the trip.

Maybe I’ll become so overcome by the minutiae of packing and unpacking and checking and repacking, and unpacking again and checking then finally repacking that I’ll stop panicking about the race and fall asleep from exhaustion.

Earlier, Jetstar tried to tell me that my flight on Thursday was cancelled, even though it actually wasn’t (as determined in a hysterical phone call to a lovely young fellow in the call centre). I’ve had enough of this stress for one evening. I think the movie is about done, so I’d better get my butt into gear.

Guh. Not sure why I do this to myself. Would someone please remind me?