The Poop Gauntlet
Between 7 and 7:30 a.m. there are several buses I can take to get to the office. Of course, I should take the first one - the 7:09 - so I will have enough time to walk to the office, grab a cup of joe and still make it in on time. If I am particularly slow getting up, the last bus to get me to the office at a no-need-to-call-and-say-I'm-going-to-be-late hour is the 7:30 Route 56. The only problem is getting on the 56 fills me with fear and dread every time I ride it in the mornings. It's the birds.
They line up on the powerline every morning and have a contest to see which of them can tag the most commuters. I'm always sure I'm going to be next as I race onto the bus trying to avoid the next missile.
Look at them, don't they look menacing with their poop chutes all lined up? It's awful, I say, just terrible! I don't know how I go on living through the torment.
Sure, I haven't been actually hit yet, but it'll happen (*in 8 years*) the possibility is out there.
So, I think I've decided that I can no longer go to work. I can't handle the stress of running the bird poop guantlet anymore. I'm just at wit's end about it all. I mean, sure, I'm also kind of frazzled about the fact that my boss is IMing me with the stupid f*cking audible buzz at a pre-coffee point in the morning to tell me that I've messed something up, all while I'm trying to finish yet another project that is already an hour behind schedule. But that's not nearly as bad as the poop. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's the poop.
So yeah, I'm staying home from now on. Okay?