When the weather is as beautiful as it is right now, I spend a lot of time outside walking. Yesterday, I got a little carried away on my afternoon stroll and found myself in a neighborhood a good 5 miles away from my house. I stopped for a minute to adjust the playlist on my Ipod and get my bearings when it happened.

A bird shit on me.

At first, I didn’t know what happened. Normally, when I suddenly feel something cool and wet hit my shirt, it means it’s beginning to rain. So I stared up at the bright, clear sky, confused. Then I examined the white smear over my right breast a little closer. I thought to myself, ‘Oh yeah. That’s definitely bird shit.’

I looked around frantically for a second as if I expected a wash cloth, sink, and bar of soap to just appear out of nowhere. When nothing did, I started racking my brain trying to figure out where the closest public bathroom was. After a few minutes, I realized there was a Subway about a mile north from where I was standing right now. With a plan firmly in place, I started walking briskly in its direction.

I was walking with such single minded purpose that I didn’t notice the woman on the sidewalk in front of me until I was almost on top of her. She was pushing a stroller and balancing about a million different bags, so it was obvious that I’d have to walk around her. I took a few side steps onto someone’s lawn in order to squeeze past when she suddenly said:

“V? Is that you, V? It’s me, Kat! From high school!”

It is times like these that I doubt my Atheism. How else can you explain running into an old high school friend the precise instant a bird relieves himself all over your shirt but with the cruel laughter of a mocking God?

I stopped to talk for a minute because it’s the polite thing to do and no amount of bird shit in the world can convince me to ignore my deeply ingrained manners. Oddly enough, she was too busy enthusiastically prattling on about her new baby and she didn’t even seem to notice the crap. Finally, I apologized to her profusely and insisted that I was in a bit of a rush so I had to be going. She started rooting through her bags in search of a pen and pad to write down her phone number for me and I had to bite my lip to prevent freaking out on her.

After a few more painful moments, I was free at last and nearly ran the rest of the way to the Subway. I washed my shirt off in the restroom sink and then jogged the rest of the way home. My husband was there, sitting at the kitchen table and dicking around on his laptop.

I said, “Bird shit on me today.”

He said, “Congrats.”

I took my shirt off in the kitchen and tossed it in the trash. I tossed the high school friend’s phone number in there as well. Then I took a shower because I convinced myself there was still bird shit residue lurking on my body. Afterwards, I felt much better.

However, as I glance out my office window today, I am noticing that it is yet again another beautiful day. I yearn to talk a walk, but I am wondering….

How weird would it look if I took an umbrella?