This has been one of those periods in which the good things arrived sandwiched between the really unpleasant.
It started nearly two weeks ago, on Sunday, when we were supposed to drive into the city to look at a few apartments. Every single appointment ended up canceled or postponed until Tuesday. On Tuesday I went to the office early so I could head out and see the two places I had managed to reschedule. After spending twenty minutes stuck in an inexplicable traffic stoppage, I found that the first was in appalling condition and the second, despite being a duplex, was actually smaller than our current apartment.
Then I got lost trying to get to the highway. Did I mention that it was raining? I found myself thinking that maybe we should just stay put after all, forget the whole idea of moving.
The following morning we set out to visit my family in Pennsylvania. The trip itself went fine; everything was lovely and the kids behaved themselves to an astonishing degree. On Thursday we went to Presque Isle in the morning, then out for dinner with my grandparents (Olive Garden--Erie doesn't offer a lot of options). It was at about 2:30 the following morning that things really and truly went south, as I woke up with a vague feeling of all not being well. By 5:00 it was unequivocally established that I was ill (I blamed the restaurant, but later events seem to have cleared them). I spent the day on the couch with a can of ginger ale, package of saltines, and a Terry Pratchett novel while D* and my mom took the kids out.
Saturday I seemed to be improved, so we headed down to our college reunion. Had a lovely time, though I was very tired; it was nice to see people, to gripe about the changes made to the campus (and those that should have happened, but haven't). Around 9 that night I either relapsed or went into a delayed Stage 2 of the bug. Bad night. Sunday I was still a mess, and we had to drive down to Butler to see my seldom-visited paternal grandmother. I sat in the living room with my Gatorade while everyone else ate lunch, unable to contemplate the smell of anything edible. Then we continued on to Pittsburgh.
On arriving in the hotel parking lot, JJ threw up. The temptation was strong to turn around and head back to my mother's place and thence home, but having tossed his milk he seemed chipper enough, so we decided to see how the night went. D* took them out to a nearby park while I rested. JJ threw up once more, and so did I, before bedtime, but the night passed uneventfully after that, and in the morning everyone seemed to be doing okay. We went to the zoo as planned and had a fine old time of it, started our homeward trip that afternoon, enjoyed a lovely night's stay in Buffalo (and how often do you hear that?), and enjoyed an uneventful drive on Tuesday. I kept exclaiming delightedly about feeling more or less normal again.
Wednesday, JJ vomited again, but again it seemed to be an isolated incident, and it was hard to say whether he was really sick or just having some aftereffect of all the travel and excitement. Then our remaining cat, Jasper, was acting a little odd in the afternoon, and seemed to be having some trouble walking when he got up from a nap, so I made an appointment for him and blew a bunch of money on blood tests that showed nothing wrong that we didn't know about.
Thursday, JJ seemed to be more clearly under the weather. The cat seemed to be fine. I went to my OB/GYN appointment; I haven't gained much weight with this pregnancy yet, but I started off with some to spare, and the baby appears to have weathered my little gastro-intestinal adventure handily.
Friday, 4:30 a.m., L asked for a drink of water, and two minutes later was heaving.
Needless to say, I hope, I haven't been doing much cooking, and indeed food of any kind has not played much of a role for most of us in the past week. Still, the farmer's markets are opening, and in a fit of optimism, I am nevertheless making appointments for more apartment viewings this weekend. Sooner or later, things have to start going better.