I am cursed. I am three days into my vacation and it has turned into the Holiday from Hell.

On Saturday morning, I got up and let my three birds out of their cages. My female cockatiel, Gypsy, flies out of her cage and promptly falls to the floor. I notice all her flight feathers are missing from one wing, which is strange because her brother also lost his flight feathers on one wing last week. So I go to grab her and she flutters across the floor. As she flaps her wings, blood spatters in all directions. I totally freak out and scoop her up. The tip of her wing is bleeding profusely, obviously a broken blood feather. I hold on to her and apply pressure to the wing, which does not pelase Gypsy in the least and she squirms like mad. I call the vets, because their wings won't clot and they can quickly bleed to death. They schedule me in for the early afternoon and I pack Gypsy in the travel cage and take off. It is raining buckets so the underpass leading to the highway is flooded. I turn around and take a long way around to the highway and head to the vets, which is about 45 minutes away (there are no avian vets in my area, which stinks). I call Chris and he offers to come with me so I pick him up along the way. At the vets, there is of course the least experienced vet on duty with it being a Saturday. He takes a look at her wing, which has stopped bleeding by this point. He can't see any evidence of mites or anything that would have caused both birds to yank out their feathers. He decides that she needs to be fitted with a collar so she can't pick at her wing. He also prescribes an antibiotic and pain killer (which makes no sense since she did not appear to be in any pain). So, that trip cost me $150.00. All of my vacation money. And now I have to take her back tomorrow, which will be another $60, which will leave me with not one penny to my name. End of the first calamity.

Then today I pick my mom up to take her to the train station to go visit family in Windsor. When she gets in the car she comments that she smells gas. I figure it's the car in front of me and we carry on. When we get out of the car we still smell gas, but have to get going to catch the train. When I leave the station, I I have a bit of trouble starting me car, but it gets going and I head home. When I get home, I get down and look under my car. Drip, drip, drip. You can clearly see fuel leaking. I rush upstairs and call work, since I work for a car dealership. They aren't busy so I rush down there to have them take a look. The fuel line has rusted out and since it lies right between the brake lines, they will break when you go to repair the fuel line because the car is older and the brake lines are rusty. $475.00. There goes most of my next paycheque since I will have to charge this to my staff account since I have no bloody money. End of calamity number two.

So no money, no trip to the cottage and no car for a couple of days. And a bird with a cone on her head, so I have to hand feed her because she can't get into her food bowls. Can I curl up in a corner and cry now?