Vacuuming is bad for you

Yesterday was a bad day. I blame the vacuuming, and the fact that I washed my hair. And Wascally Wabbits. Confused? It's okay. But I need to vent. You can read or you can skip to something pleasant like this. I won't mind.

First, some of the highlights of my Very Bad Day.

It started with the garbage pickup. Simple task, right? As I dragged my can (the garbage can) through the snow to the end of the driveway my neighbour called out that I'd missed the truck. Odd, since I was about half an hour ahead of the usual schedule, but okay. "Use my driveway," she said. I reluctantly agreed and dragged it across the road, reluctant because I have avoided talking to her for years. (She lives to gossip and never lets the truth get in the way of a good story.) She then launched into a long breathless monologue about work, kids blah blah.... I said I had to get Eldest to train.

Said daughter came very close to missing her train and after I dropped her off at the nearest intersection, she dashed across red lights, heavy traffic and railway tracks to catch it. My lifespan has been shortened by several years as a result.

Returned to see garbage truck picking up on my side of the street as usual. But not before I got stuck behind it.

I had an appointment downtown so I left my dog with a new groomer/daysitter ( I shall call her "C") to see how Buddy gets along with her dogs and cats. As I pulled out of C's driveway, I heard an awful dog fight and squeals on the other side of the fence. Instead of rushing back, which is what every maternal instinct in my body was telling me to do, I listened and waited. C. had asked me not to be present when they all met, and I trusted her. I also thought that sometimes when dogs establish pecking order, they make a lot of noise which sounds worse than it is. She went inside, things were quiet, so I left for my appointment. With trepidation, but I left.

On the way, there was a multi-car accident that happened on the crest of the hill in front of me on the highway - there were at least five wrecked cars, one flipped on its side, people wandering on the road, and no police or ambulance anywhere. Completely rattled me, and I arrived late to my appointment. Because of the snow storm the day before there was no street parking anywhere. The indoor lot was full. My emergency backup lot was blocked by a giant snow removal truck. I tried a third location, took the wrong entrance and ended up underground with delivery trucks surrounding me. After more twists and turns, I found another lot a block away and parked in a tight spot with the help of a passing woman. (Women really do help other women park when they see them in distress, don't they? I love that about us.) I ran to my appointment and arrived sweaty and breathless.

Still venting. Are you still with me?

I arrived at my husband's dental office only to be tackled by the office manager and hustled to the secondary entrance. Apparently there was another patient booked at the same time and they didn't want me to have to deal with this particularly pernicious person. (The team in my husband's office operates like a cross between loving, caring sisters and well trained Navy Seals, so God help anyone who crosses them.)

Just as I'm thinking "what else do you have to throw at me, Universe?!" I get on the highway to come home and...another accident! Montrealers do not slow down for anything, including inclement weather. So put Kamikaze-style drivers on an icy highway with afternoon glare from the setting sun and what do you get? Bumper to bumper traffic for miles, turning a twenty minute ride into an hour and a half.

Oh, it gets much worse.

When I picked up Buddy, a very upset C. told me he'd been attacked by a dog she was looking after, a young Bernese Mountain Dog, who had yet to be neutered. The owners knew he had "issues" and just hired a trainer who'd been to their home once. She warned me that Buddy had some bruises on his belly and that she'd take care of any vet bills. When I got him home and examined him, I realized his chest was turning bluish/black and that he had bruises and bite marks all over his belly, chest and groin. My sweet, gentle Cavalier who would not hurt anyone had clearly gone into the submissive posture and was attacked anyway. He was in considerable pain and limping so I had to take him to my vet last night. He's on painkillers today and can't manage stairs. We need to watch him for signs of fever which may mean a puncture wound under his fur where we can't see it.

What does this have to do with vacuuming you ask? And washing my hair? And wabbits?

Well, yesterday was the Chinese New Year, marking the beginning of the Year of the Rabbit. Lainey Lui, my favourite entertainment blogger, warned that you had to clean everything (house, hair, clothes, whatever) by Wednesday, and you are not supposed to do any cleaning until Sunday. Because if you do, you scrub away the good luck. Phht, I thought.

Then I vacuumed and washed my hair. Just as the new year started.

I have learned my lesson.

Buddy is flaked out on painkillers and is laying beside me on the good couch he's not normally allowed to sleep on.

Today I'm going to let him.