So it's Saturday morning and I go out for a walk, pick up some groceries, enjoy the fresh air and sunshine; and then I get shat on.
My shoulder gets creamed with what I can only assume was an intentional assault. It was a serious googer for a bird, too. This guy'd been holding it in, waiting for that perfect moment when I'd walk right underneath his tree so he could just totally unload.
For those of you who haven't walked through a neighborhood with a big wad of shit on your clothes, don't worry. You're not missing much. I stomped the entire way back to the house, genuinely ticked off because I really liked that shirt. By the time I reached the front door, I was questioning the decision to ever leave in the first place.
And that's when I saw the Jehovah's Witness pamphlet crammed into the door. My brain immediately did some math on it's favorite subject, social anxiety, and the resulting numbers showed that I had dodged a staggering amount of awkward questions because I was busy being shit on.
So, think about that the next time someone drops a load of shit on you: Maybe you're actually in the right place at the right time.