wine and cheap perfume

Yesterday my mother and I went to the salon in the Waldorf Astoria to get facials. This is something we used to do on a monthly basis for years, because my mother's favorite facialist (is that even a word?) closed her private practice about fifteen years ago and opted to work at a fancy hotel instead. We hadn't been there since I was 18. I was looking forward to it, because I have the skin of a puberty-laden teenage boy, but as soon as I walked through the door I knew I was in for it. 61-yr. old Judith (pronounced "Udith") was standing there with her large, mannish hands planted firmly on her 46-inch waist. Her hair, which for as long as I'd know her had always been short and gray, was now long and red. She narrowed her eyes at me.
"Well!" she began angrily. "It's been a while!"
My mother was already inside, and suddenly I felt terrible about having neglected my skin and Udith for so long.
"Yeah...I....I mean, I'm sorry?" I couldn't even think of a bad excuse as to why I had failed to patronize the salon for seven years.
"Come in!" she barked.
I walked into one of those special little rooms and she forced me out of my clothes and into a starchy teal robe.
"Lie down!" she commanded.
And then I asked the stupidest question I've ever asked in my entire life. I'm not sure if it was because I was flustered, or if it was because I forgot why I was there to begin with, but I queried, "On my stomach or my back?"
Okay. Why THE HELL would I lie down on my stomach for a facial? So that she could croutch below my head and attempt to nurture my skin from below? She looked at me as if I was crazy and replied, "What do you think?"
I tried to redeem myself by informing her that I wear sunscreen everyday and drink a lot of water, but she couldn't have cared less. Plus, I don't, and I'm sure she could tell.
Back downtown after the facial, while I was wiping down the menus at work, I got a call from the A.S.P.C.A. that went a little something like this:

Me: Hello?
Man: Hello, Ms. Liederman?
Me: yes?
Man: This is Dr. Armstrong calling from the A.S.P.C.A. I'm calling about Louie.
Me: Oh, hi! Yeah, I'm at work, so I actually can't talk, but he's doing great! His stitches are healing nicely. Thanks so much for-
Dr. Armstrong: Actually, he's not. That's why I'm calling.
Me: What?
Dr. Armstrong: He tested positive for Ghardia.
Me: Wait. Isn't that an STD?
Dr. Armstrong: No. You're probably thinking of chlymidia (sp?). Ghardia is an intestinal parasite. And it's contageous to humans. If you start having an upset stomach, it means that you, too, may have Ghardia.
Me: Cool. Thanks.

I swear this won't turn into some pathetic dog blog (though I suspect that it already has), but like, come on. My dog is a complete disaster. It's always something.