Now let’s flash to Saturday. It’s a beautiful day in New York City and after a very satisfying win by Northwestern’s football team (Go Cats!), Andrew and I decide to read outside in Union Square for a little while before hitting the Farmer’s Market. Nice, right?
I’m almost done with Freedom. If you don’t want to know anything about the end of the book you should skip over the next sentence, but I promise it won’t really ruin anything. I’m at the point where they are talking about creating a bird sanctuary which will help Walter’s precious song birds. He’s pretty obsessed with birds. I’m sitting on a lovely bench next to Andrew. All of a sudden, I feel something fall on me and I know it’s not good. It’s poop… of the bird variety. Bird poop has gotten on my elbow, ever so slightly in my hair and a drop on my Kindle case. Gross.
How appropriate that a bird should choose to poop on me just as I’m reading a nice little section about saving birds. Pigeons may not be song birds, but as I cleaned grossness off me and my Kindle, the distinction didn’t much matter. Needless to say, I do not have the same feelings on the bird world as Walter Berglund does.