The past few days in Connecticut have been glorious. I mean they've been the type of days you only see in movies, but rarely in real life.
As I was driving around with the sunroof open, all I could wonder about was how long it would take for a bird to shit on me.
Why couldn't my brain wonder off to think about the beautiful sunny, blue skies? Instead, I zeroed in on the fact this was perfect weather for a bird to shit on me.
Before you start thinking she's crazy, let me explain.... On 3 different occasions, I've had a bird shit on me. All 3 times, the days were just as beautiful and sunny as yesterday. Only difference is that I was alone.
In the past, birds shat on me when I was standing or sitting next to another person. So very odd. But, I guess if the bird is going to hit its target, it probably wants witnesses to see how talented he is.
Just to be clear: When a bird shits on you, it's gross, but not the end of the world. However, I don't believe a bird shitting on you brings happiness.
Nor do I believe rain on your wedding day brings a long and happy marriage. It rained the day of my first wedding (notice I use the word 'first'), so that wives' tale isn't true.
Why do wives' tales exist? Why don't people just say "It's raining, get over it" or "Get away from me, I don't want bird crap to get on me?"
I never had children and wonder if they tell a mother-to-be that a really hard and long labor means you're going to have the best behaved, beautiful, brilliant and considerate child?
If not, I want to add that into the collection of Old Wives' Tales. Why not? I'm married and I often wake-up feeling like a 110 years old.......