Rock Art
After spending 4 days and 3 nights here, I got to know the place. It became familiar. I had some routines. I found a spectacular rock in the sun that doubled as my dinner table as well as my lounge chair. There was some paint on it. That’s cool, someone was painting. Had a couple of bird bombs too. To make up for it, there was this other little rock someone put there that was square and perfect to put under your head. Like a pillow. I arranged it so it covered the wet paint. I took a nap. After who knows how long, I woke and started stretching and moving my arms about. Then a bird flew off and scared me. And I got pooped on. Crap.
Now this isn’t the first time I’ve been pooped on. Nope. Twice before in fact. Numero uno. At a putt putt golf course. On a date with my future wife. In deep concentration lining up my shot. Head and shoulders. She thinks it’s hilarious.
Number two. On the coast of California. Rented economy car with my now wife. I’m paranoid about hitting the curb when I park. This would be because my own car sits so low to the ground it easily hits things made of concrete. We find a hot spot for dinner and look for parking. It’s a pull in spot off the road. I park. But not too close to the curb. We eat. Have a great time. Until we’re headed back to the car and I see a parking ticket on the windshield. Well I apparently got a ticket for parking too far away from the curb. I look at the Monster Trucks, I mean pick-up trucks next to me with their extended cabs sticking out way further towards the road than me. Really? Really?! I get all worked up and run amok looking for this person that had decided to give me this most pointless ticket. Then I get pooped on. Head and shoulders. My wife thinks it’s hilarious.
Back to the rock. Some time passes. I’m a little more awake. Wait a second. I didn’t get pooped on. I was just rolling around in the paint. Which was another bird bomb the whole time. My bad. Should have seen that one coming.