Last night, I took my nieces and nephews shopping to get a gift for their mom's upcoming birthday. When we were done shopping, I brought them back to their house and I hung out with them for a bit to play outside. The littlest nephew, age four, at one point dropped his tennis racket, raced up the steps the front door and called out to me without preamble that he would let me know when he was done pooping. Right. Because, I deduced, in the absence of any other responsible adult, I had to wipe his butt. About five minutes later, he yelled that he was done, and I proceeded up into the toilet chamber of doom. He immediately asked for new underpants, before I could even evaluate the poop situation. Apparently, he didn't quite make it up the steps in time. Great. Then, after the new garments were produced, and the old were sanitized, it was time for the final clean up. What I discovered was that the little man had been having a bit of a rough week in the number two department. His little heiney was sore. The screams of horror that emerged from his mouth as I did the wiping broke my heart. He finally cried to me, "I want my mommy to wipe my butt." With a level stare, I replied, "I want your mommy to wipe your butt too."
Today, I took a walk at lunch. I grabbed a few books at the library, then headed over into Chinatown to get a Lemongrass Tofu Banh Mi sandwich for lunch. It was a lovely, leisurely walk, albeit a bit on the hot side. Banh Mi and books in hand, I headed back through Chinatown to my workplace. (Aside: Why do all Chinatowns smell so badly?) Then it happened. I was casually strolling on the sidewalk, thoughts elsewhere, when I heard a voice shout, "Look out," and I immediately felt a pain on my shoulder. Yes, I had been hit by a random piece of construction debris from an overloaded wheelbarrow being pushed by an overweight toothless laborer at an adjacent building's construction site. If any time ever called for the use of these letters, now is that time: WTF. I'm used to getting pooped on by birds while walking, it's kind of my "thing." Apparently, I now need to look out for stray pieces of building. The gentleman rolling the overloaded wheelbarrow was concerned that I might return and sue. I assured him I felt fine (although I could tell that I was going to have a nasty bruise at the very least) and continued on my way.
I realize that I have an easy case: careless construction worker harms innocent pedestrian on public sidewalk...it's kind of open and shut from an insurance perspective. But karma has been laying some heavy shit on me of late, so I'm using this as my "pay it forward" moment. I will not sue the neighboring building and its contractor, unless of course I wake up tomorrow and find I have a broken clavicle or something. All bets are off in that case. Karma can kiss my ass.