Oh, Saturday, how I remember you. I did a 22.5-mile dirt road ride from the house and sweat my balls off. I also hit one of my first weight-loss goals (-20 lbs). It was a good day. That lasted until about 11 AM.

Wifey was heading out for a run at the Sylvan Preserve but was back in the house 5 minutes later with car problems. The dashboard error said it was her key fob, so she ran to the Ford dealer with my car, got the battery replaced, and was soon home to realize that it was NOT her key. The Ford Service Center was now closed at the dealer, so we call AAA; still figuring it was a key/car problem, the dude did everything to get it going BUT jump the battery. A tow was arranged for Monday morning when the dealer was open.

Monday morning comes, and a different dude comes from AAA to tow the car and asks if we tried jumping it. We admit that we had not because of the error code on the dashboard. He jumped the car; it started; I drove over and got a new battery; done.

OK, what’s the big deal? Batteries die and mistakes are made, right? It was what happened BEFORE the tow truck came that changed the week.

It’s about 8 AM, and Wifey comes downstairs from her “office” and says, “If things couldn’t get worse, I think our bank account was hacked.”

Oh, boy, was it ever!! I could go on here, but I won’t.

It’s now Thursday, and things still aren’t completely resolved. Our bank is working on getting our money back to us, so there’s that, but the week has taken its toll, and I can barely think straight from the stress.

Seeing our account drained is heartbreaking, but more than that, it’s the feeling of my family being violated. It makes me sick in my stomach every time I think about it, and I keep thinking about it over and over, wondering if I fucked up somewhere or if I was just the random victim of a well orchestrated scam.

As you can imagine, I have little desire to ride my bike or work out with all this going on. I did manage to stress hike 3 miles at Bundy Hill on Wednesday, but that’s about it. Right now, I’m craving normality and routine, and this week has offered none of that. I just keep telling myself that this is a mere pimple on the hairy ass of life, and it will soon pop and be gone. I hope.

I’ll be back when things normal up a bit, and I can back to my routine without being a fat ball of stress.



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