This is pretty much a big rant. You’ve been warned.

It all started when my brother decided last week that the house he lives at must be worked on. My parents and I discussed this briefly and somehow I became the horrible one for suggesting that if my parents were paying for repairs, it should be done on their timeline. They felt rushed, I felt rushed, we both didn’t know why he couldn’t push it out a week if the contractor told us to start when we were ready. But they were mad at me for not being gung ho.

That’s how I became the horrible one. With the race being that weekend, I really didn’t want 2 people and 2 more dogs and moving furniture to be part of the mix.

It happened anyway. We discussed it Monday and on Tuesday, I spent my afternoon driving out and moving boxes and books and directing heavier furniture to clear three rooms worth of stuff with others.

Tuesday night, I readied a space for 2 extra bodies and 2 dogs who are apprehensive of change.

Wednesday evening, I come home and find out my SIL is sick and my brother recently had a stomach bug.

Thursday I get chills, discomfort, and a fever at work and leave at lunch.

Friday I don’t feel better and take the day off to rest so I can be ready for the race on Saturday.

Saturday comes. I’ve spent half my night in the restroom. I have to fold my cards and tell the crew I can’t be there for the event.

All because my timeline doesn’t matter. Because, you know, I haven’t been working on this event for the whole year and meeting Saturday mornings planning this. So it was a bigger inconvenience for my brother than me.

I don’t think so. He also denies my being sick has to do with him or his wife. I think the fact we all had the same symptoms, touched the same surfaces, and were under the same household suffices as enough evidence to that.

So no race, no free time, no workouts, no eating good foods. This week was full of disappointment. I bawled my eyes out Friday night knowing I wasn’t getting better, and then Saturday morning, when the reality sunk in, that I wouldn’t get to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Two vacation days gone, one year of work to not see it in action, and feeling terrible both physically and emotionally. That was this past week.

I’m finally back to eating normal food although I fear coffee would still be a bad idea for my tummy at this point. ‘Hoping to hit the gym Friday and get back into the groove.

Life sucks sometimes.