Why me?

Last night, after saying farewell to some wonderful friends who are off to make their way in the world, Colette and I made it back across our street with every intention of packing up our belongings for our up coming moves but instead, crashed for one last time under the giant tree in front of our building. We've all been a little nostalgic lately which tends to happen when you leave condo row after three excellent years.














Colette and I were reminiscing about all the fun times we'd had on that grassy knoll...afternoons spent reading, taking that picture with "the 10" that looks like Monica has a small rodent on her shoulder and my head is floating way above the rest, snowball fights, the time that Meg chucked a newspaper over the balcony and hit an innocent bystander below, and the time that I got pooped on twice in one day.

That's right. Twice within about 6 minutes. That's what you get when you like to sit under a large tree full of little birds. Apparently Co Co didn't know that I got pooped on twice in one day. She got a kick out of it. To me, it was NBD (no big deal) because I am used to it. I've been bombed five times in my short 22 years. Two robins, one in the front yard and one in the backyard, one seagull at Bear Lake, and two whateverthosestupidlittlebirdsupinthattreearecalled in front of Wellington II.

Which brings me back to my original question. Why me? Colette believes that I am the type of person that this would happen to. (Obviously it did happen, so I agree) I believe that birds look for someone like myself. Someone who is far too content with their situation in life. Someone who is so involved in the moment (playing in my yard, looking for those baby seashells at the lake, reading a book under the tree) that it would never occur to them that "nature" could take away the peace of that moment in an instance. I am here to tell you that nature provides a rude awakening.

After much reflection on the matter, I have come to the conclusion that I have two options:

I can trade in my generally optimistic outlook on life for a more dismal "I bet a bird will poop on me today" outlook which has the potential to thwart any future attacks because they would see my quick suspicious upward glances and know that I was ready for them which would then take away their pleasure and force them to look for another unsuspecting victim, thus saving my outfit, hairdo, and/or dignity.

Or, I can embrace the fact that I am a target. I will not let bird doo doo, regardless of size, consistency, or location of impact, ruin my worldview.