This morning I stepped in dog crap. I don’t have a dog. There’s a city ordinance dictating that one must clean up after one’s dog. I drove all the way to work enveloped by the smell of dog poop, thinking that people were just doing an awful lot of landscaping. When I was still smelling it while waiting at the light next to the Starbucks, I knew I had dog poop on me somewhere. I parked the car and shuffled across the grass to my building. Then I scurried into the bathroom, took my shoe off and washed it in the sink. Yuck.
I decide I need some coffee. I go into the kitchen and wash out my cup, noticing that the hot water isn’t working. Oh well. I reach for the pot. No coffee. No hot water. No way.
I call my buddy upstairs to see if he wants to go get coffee at the campus cafe. Sure, he says.
As we leave the building, I say, “Here’s what kind of day it’s gonna be. I stepped in dog poop.”
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