A few weeks ago, I had the utmost pleasure of eating my lunch outside. If you are not from New England, you cannot possibly understand what it’s like to have that first hot, summery day in April when the temperature finally hits 80 degrees and the sun is on your face, after what feels like the longest winter you’ve ever lived through. It’s generally followed by a plunge back into the 40’s and 5+ days of rain, but we take what we can get here.
Since the weather was so beautiful, (and let’s face it, I look like a Cullen,) I figured I’d take advantage of the gorgeous day and lunch outside to catch some rays. I grabbed a sub, found a vacant park bench, and stretched my legs out in front of me. Just then, I heard this thud/drip sound, and looked down to discover a bird had pooped mere inches from my left ankle. This immediately reminded me of my younger sister, who has been pooped on by more birds than I can keep track of. As the adage goes, it’s good luck, but she always thought that was something our family invented to make her feel better. I had a funny thought, then. If the poop didn’t land on me, am I unlucky? Because I must admit, after seeing such a near miss... I felt very fortunate indeed.