Stepping in Shit and Another Amazing Events

So yeah...I guess it's been awhile.

I think I hit a point with my blog where I began to feel that I just had to post something, anything. And I didn't want to do that because I kind of hate those sort of blogs. "I ate pizza today." Well, good for you! I guess I was just waiting for something to happen that was actually worth writing about. In the immortal words of one B. Summers, I was waiting for "something to sing about."

Last Sunday, I decided to be productive and make my way over to Bed, Bath and Beyond. I had wanted to organize my closet a bit, and we were in serious need of a new shower curtain liner. So I put in my headphones and headed up 6th Ave. I happen to really love Bed and Bath. Everytime I go there I see about a million things I don't actually need, but just look REALLY cool. Like, I don't actually need a margarita maker, but honestly, how awesome would that be to have in your home? I'm kind of like a three year old. I get very distracted by shiny things.

I managed to get what I needed, and started to make my way to check out. One of the things about living in New York City is that you get used to the fact that people bring their dogs everywhere. For me personally, I have my limits. I won't ever bring Milo into a restaurant (kind of obvious, you'd think), nor would I bring him into any sort of major store, whether it be clothing, hardware, or oh, I don't know, Bed Bath and Beyond. You'd think that if you did feel the need to bring your dog with you into one of these stores, you'd keep an eye on them. I mean, it seems like common sense, at least to me. So you can imagine my surprise when on my way to check out, I stepped in dog shit.

For a moment, my only real emotion was complete and utter disbelief. Had I stepped in the poop outside of the store, yes, I would have been annoyed, but it would have seemed a little more logical. Stepping in shit by the coffee makers in BB&B couldn't really register in my tiny little brain. And now what? There appeared to be no managers anywhere, no bathrooms nearby. I had shit on my shoe. And I just wanted to take my pretty new shower liner and get the hell out of there. Herein lay my predicament. Did I make a scene, or just figure out how to go on without drawing too much attention to my situation? What did I choose to do? I chose to drag my foot along the ground, wiping the crap along the floor. Horrible, I know. And when I got up to pay, fearing I might stink, I stood a good 10 feet away from the cashier. As soon as I got out of the store, I stepped into a murky puddle and made my way back home, still completely baffled by what had just happened to me.

It's been said that stepping in shit is actually good luck. As I made my way home on Sunday, I couldn't quite see that being the case. Now, I'm beginning to think there might be something behind that old wives' tale. On Thursday, I went on a job interview. Thursday afternoon, I was given an offer by that job that I absolutely could not pass up, and will probably end up changing my life. And yesterday, I gave my notice at "Rhymes With the Cat." I've been trying to get out for so long, and apparently all it took was a little dog shit to make it happen. Go figure.