Somewhere in all of this running around I was shat on by a bird. As I rushed out the door for a farewell lunch with a friend Dale asked "honey what's that on your skirt?" And I answered "bird shit, but I don't have time to change."
Later someone told me they believed being shat on by a bird was good luck. And I replied that I did indeed feel sort of lucky. After all, the bird had shat on my skirt and not on my arm or face or something truly horrible.
Through it all I was cheerful and maintained a pretty good mood.
Today so far has gone something like this: Up at 6:30 AM-which is way too early-to deal with more dog vomit, and a third trip to the vet, dressed in the same shat on skirt.
And my cheerful attitude crumbled under the pressure. And so apparently did my immune system. And tears were shed. And today I can say this: Moving is hard. And having a sinus infection is hard. And having a sick dog is the hardest thing ever. And being shat on by a bird may or may not bring you good luck.