Yesterday I took all three boys outside to play.
Then a bird shat on my arm.
I took a moment to think about the existential nature of this. What are the chances that I was standing at the exact right point in my yard at the exact right time that this bird decided to take a crap directly above me? It got me all philosophical thinking things like:
If I hadn't sat next to that random girl on a flight to Amsterdam back in 2000, then she never would have introduced me to my ex boyfriend, and then I never would have stayed an extra year in London, and then I never would have gone to Penn Law, and then I never would have met my husband, and then I never would have had these three kids and lived in this house and been standing outside at this exact moment for this bird to crap on my arm.
My thoughts were interrupted by a couple of screaming children, and before I knew it I had forgotten about the profoundness of the bird shitting on my arm and how it all went back to this flight I took to Amsterdam in the year 2000. In fact, I must admit I didn't even wash my arm until about 20 minutes later (but I did wipe it off immediately with a dried leaf).
I suppose it really wasn't that profound after all.
Sometimes shit just happens.