The worst week ever.

I'm not one to complain on here, because well, there is not much to complain about regarding my life...if you delete last week. I was in good ole Bloomington, Illinois all last week for work and no offense to anyone who lives there, but yikes, it may have been the worst week, ever and here's why: 

1. We had to leave on a Sunday. Sundays are one of my favorite days. I sleep in late, enjoy breakfast, and snuggle up with Romeo. David and I get the whole day together with no interruptions and no work attachments. Sundays are my low-key, don't have to get dressed up, hang out in rain boots and sweats all day (and I do, every Sunday, even if it's not raining). I had to get on a plane and go to Bloomington on a Sunday, first strike in my book. 

2. We had a layover. The plane was tiny and cramped. Boo. Strike Two. 

3. Bloomington is.....before I say this, no offense to anyone who lives there or loves it there, but to me it felt almost as if I had stepped backwards into the early 90s and clearly did not fit in anymore. There wasn't much there besides the Fridays connected to the hotel and a Panera in the parking lot. My meals didn't really consist of anything remotely appetizing or healthy there, let's just say that. Strike 3. (THey keep coming), but we've already struck out for the week. 

4. I hate not having a car. I hate not having the freedom to go where I want to go. Didn't have that this week. I know I sound like a very high-maintenance complainer right now, yikes...maybe I should stop. For the sake of this post, depending on a shuttle driver to take me where I wanted to go all week, was awful. 

5. I had to wake up at 6 every day. Most days I wake up at 7:30, sometimes I wake up at 6. It was not fun. 

6. I got sick. YES, it was terrible. I laid in bed, in an uncomfortable hotel room all day, unable to eat, or sleep, with NOTHING to watch on tv, and no Romeo, or David. It was so unbelievably awful, I think I cried a few times. 

7. I even made a lovely ER appearance at Bloomington's hospital. I had never wished I was home more than that night. 

8. I never ever want panera, fridays or pizza hutt EVER again. 

I'm done complaining. It was an awful week, so incredibly awful. Between wishing I was home and trying to find the bright side of the trip, I was just a mess and coming home could not have been sweeter. 

Now that I have complained your ear off, I promise I will be positive. 

I'm home, my birthday is this week, and I absolutely cannot wait for Christmas. 

So here's to being a little happier and never going to Bloomington, ever, ever again.