Bird poop and me

Kari and me at Stögo
No, her name is not Bird Poop. That is my friend Kari, at the end of a long day that started with me getting crapped on as I crossed 2nd Avenue on my way to breakfast.

I always wondered when the odds were going to catch up with me. I spend so much of my life walking around outside, yet had never had a bird poop on my head. As soon as I felt it, I knew what it was, and I thought: Well, I guess I won’t have to go through that for another 35 years.

I cleaned it out of my hair in the restaurant’s restroom, and Mr K and I (who were planning our trip to Paris next week) spent exactly one minute laughing about it before moving on to more pressing topics.

There was a time when this could have ruined my entire day, but instead it was just another thing that happened in an overall superb day. This is what I consider a spiritual change.


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