I helped my sister move today. We picked up the U Haul, had breakfast, sorted a few things in her apt and then started carrying boxes downstairs. Literally on the first box trip, I fell on the bottom step and felt something "pop" in my ankle. It's definitely a sprain. So I spent the rest of the day elevating and icing my ankle while my poor sister carried boxes.
When Fi got home from work, he helped her finish the job. It's after midnight and he just got home. She and her roommate are still moving things within the building. I feel terrible I couldn't help any more.
Then around 9pm, a lightning bolt hit me: I was supposed to make calls this afternoon for my PT job. I had to email the guy who assigned the task (not my normal boss), apologize, and say I'll do them tomorrow. He told me it was fine, but I still feel like a shithead.
I can't start the calls until 10am, the calls will take 1-2 hours, and I would have needed to leave by 11am to be on time to my friend's bday brunch. So now I messed up my job task, I'm going to be late for my friend's birthday, I am a terrible sister, and I'm a limpy gimpy.
Fi has a running joke that anytime we or my sister need to move, something happens and I can't help: so far I've been sick, out of state, had to work... he is never going to let me live this down.
So in sum, this was me today:
"I'm not a rude bitch. I'm ten rude bitches in a large coat."