Wednesday, April 28, 2010


Let's just get it out there - I've been terribly remiss about writing. I'm now going to let myself feel guilty about it for one entire minute.


There. We're past it, right?

Here's the thing. Yesterday was one of those days that I just have to get down in writing so that when I'm old and grey and reminiscing about the wonderful days when my family was young and the world was still so full of possibility and promise, I will remember that sometimes, those young, possibility-filled days were just ass. Pure and simple.

The day started off normal enough. The morning routine went down as usual, except that I was a little extra stressed because today the fur baby, Momes, was going in for an operation. If you know the Momes you'll understand that this is a very serious situation for his breed and for him especially (a dog with 9 lives, most of which he's already used up). He's likely under the knife right now and I don't care to discuss it. Will update later - moving on.

So I'm on edge about that. But we get ourselves together and we make it to daycare and work without incident. Sweet.

Morning at work goes as well as possible for someone who essentially feels like she's juggling three full time jobs. Job #1 - parent. Job # 2 - my job. Job #3 - trying to buy a new house. Whatevs, we're dealing as well as can be expected, if anyone has figured out the best way to work three full-time jobs at once without feeling a little STRESSED about it. Leave a comment.

I was actually quite excited about my lunch hour! Tuesdays are my riding lesson days and this means that I don't go to the gym on my lunch break. Oh, the possibilities! I can walk around, I can shop, I can eat somewhere out of the office. It's the best lunch hour of my week. Yesterday I decided that since pay day approaches and somehow I managed to keep a couple hundred bucks in my account, I'd treat myself to a little retail therapy to cheer myself up and relieve some stress.

Off to Zara! New shirt. So lovely. And you know what? Retail therapy really worked. I felt better. I'd budgeted for it and thought about it since my last pay. I was proud of myself for limiting it to just one, reasonably-priced item that I really liked. I would wear it when I went for drinks with friends on Friday! It was all coming together.

Back to the office for a busy afternoon of meetings. That actually helped because it kept my mind off the impending dog surgery and let me relax a little and talk creative business with my amazing colleagues. Thank God for them, they really do always help to make my day. But as the day wound down, the stress came back. By the time I was leaving the office, I felt a little nauseous from it all, I get spacey and tired when I'm stressed and I start to do stupid things.

Stupid things like leaving my brand-new shirt on the subway.


$40 dollars and the joy of a new item that was well earned and well deserved. FLUSH.

In over 10 years of commuting on the TTC I have NEVER done that before. Well, maybe the odd umbrella or pair of gloves, but never an entire shopping bag! Ever. I was so mad at myself when I realized it and SO utterly bummed. My entire so-so day was ruined. Silly to get upset over a $40 shirt, but it was the last one in my size. It was so pretty. And really? I don't have another $40 to replace it and I certainly didn't have an extra $40 to LEAVE ON THE SUBWAY.

So I get home and allow myself a five minute cry. Then it's time to suck it up because I have riding to get to for 7:30pm. A jumping lesson so I can't be despondent and distracted. I must be focused and eager. I make it to the barn and already am feeling better. I'm always cheered up by my horses. I'm assigned to one of my very favourites, a big, beautiful mare named Seven. Things are looking up! The lesson was great fun. We jumped verticals and rode a course. As always, after class I felt relaxed, happy and tired. Ready to go home, go to bed with my book and prepare for the tense day ahead (today).

Jump in the car, whip home, go to pull into my underground parking garage. The door is open, which is odd, but I pull in only to find a woman standing on the ramp waving her arms at me to stop and pull over. WTF? I roll down my window, get hit with a wave of stink, and she walks up and says, "Smell that? There's a skunk trapped down here. You might want to think about parking elsewhere so your car doesn't get sprayed."

A fucking skunk? In the UNDERGROUND parking lot? That's right. You can't make this shit up.

For a moment, I consider just parking there anyway. What are the chances that he'll go anywhere near my car? So I pull forward a bit 'til I can see my spot. And what is walking around frantically in circles IN my spot? Correct. Senior Skunk. I back the fuck out of the parking garage. NO WAY am I risking getting sprayed by skunk on a day that already stinks.

Though I briefly considered moving the car to the visitor lot, I opt for the street instead because the skunk is down there, he's pissed and who is to say that he won't run to the visitors section? The way my day is going, I'm getting sprayed for sure. I park on the street, go home and go to bed.

This morning? $30 ticket. But the car smells great.

Please send good vibes my way that my string of bad luck is over? My Momes needs all the help he can get.