This morning has been unfortunately eventful. I was standing under a tree waiting for the super-late N22 bus when I was confronted by a small mound of purplish goo on my shoulder. I'd been attacked by a bird and it was the last straw.
I guess I feel that I've been regularly shit on during the past few weeks. Okay, so maybe that is an exaggeration but wtf, why can't I get things together? I still haven't finished packing and at the rate I'm going, I wonder if I ever will. I just have too much stuff and not enough willpower to part with it all. Plus, I have two weeks left and still no place. As of June 30, I will be a homeless girl with boxes and crates full of junk and nowhere to go. And that's the least of my problems.
I know that I shouldn't complain as my life is pretty good. I have a job, friends, and some solid plans to look forward to. But having my favorite shirt pooped on this morning put a damper on my normal optimism. Thankfully, I brought along a tshirt, which I plan on wearing under my suit coat all day.
I believe that being christened with bird droppings is a sign of good luck. And I've had at least two other bird dropping incidents in the past few years. So perhaps, it's a sign that things are turning around. Tonight, I will find my dream housing situation, and this weekend, I will tackle all the crap in my living room and in my closets. But it could just be a sign that I should retire my snug work shirt and stop standing under that tree every morning waiting for the always late N22.
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