For the thirteenth wonderful time in my life, I've been shit on by a bird.
As I was writing up this latest entry in my long-running story of bird-crappings, something odd occurred to me. A pattern, if you will, and it goes like this: 1. I was shit on now and then over the course of the years. 2. Then it stopped when I became a father. Stopped cold for four and a half years. 3. Then I had a second child, and in the next sixteen months was nailed three times.
So having an odd number of kids shields me from shit? But doesn't bird crap bring good luck?