Day before yesterday I laughed at someone for stepping on a dead baby bird. I didn’t find the dead bird funny, but rather the picture of grace which is the person slipping on a city sidewalk. I like to watch people fall. I love AFV. It’s kind of a sickness.
So guess who came to visit me yesterday? Karma. While working in the yard (okay, not so much working in the yard as spraying Round-Up on clovers that have apparently been sneaking steroids through the gate) I stepped on a dead baby bird.
You would think that was the worst thing I’ve ever stepped on.
Long ago, on a cruise, after a few too many drinks with mini-umbrellas and a certain ingredient that rhymes with “bum”, I left the ship’s dance club with friends. I was wearing high-heeled sandals that were killing my feet and decided to walk the carpeted halls barefoot.
As we rounded a corner, my bare foot landed squarely in a pile of someone’s fresh vomit.
It may have been 12 years ago, but I am still telling myself that it was just a spilled strawberry shake.