call it luck

There's a saying in Mexico that claims a person is lucky when they get pooped on by a bird. If there's any truth to this phrase, I would be one fortunate person.

Something that I get to do almost every day is light my pilot light on the water heater. This is quite the experience as it involves a boiler that is past its prime and sits outside my laundry room window. Let me paint you a picture of what is involved when I light the pilot.

Normally, lighting the boiler occurs when it is dark outside. If I had the choice, I would prefer to take on this task in daylight, but as I usually shower in the morning or at night, darkness is what I am given. I grab the lighter from my kitchen (which I keep in there to light my stove whenever I use it) and I trudge down the hallway to the laundry room. I usually struggle finding the lightbulb which hangs from the wall and then try to make as much noise as possible as I slide open the window which has more than normal wear and tear. I then turn the dial on the boiler to the pilot setting and stick my hand out the window pushing the button and sticking the lighter through the broken piece of screen which serves as a weak excuse for the flame cover. Sometimes it is as easy as that, I just wait with my hand pushing the button for a minute while mentally humming or singing a song to pass the boredom.

But boring it is not always.....for there have been several occassions while performing this daily task that the pigeons living outside my window have decided to have some fun. This "fun" consists of my hand or arm or shirt getting pelted with poop. I kid you not.

Last week, the bird hanging out above my window decided to drop a bomb. Though I was able to move my hand out of the line of fire, the poop somehow hit the boiler, rebounded off and nailed my pajamas with a steady stream of whiteness. Disgusting.

This week, as I was innocently craving hot water and in the process of lighting my boiler, I suddenly felt something I hope to never again feel. My hand was instantaneously warm and oozing with something white. By the time I realized what had just happened, my entire hand was covered in the filthy evidence.

The birds are winning. It's probably about 5-0 at this point in the game. Though these past couple instances have been awful, I believe the worst (or luckiest) bird poop story happened two years ago. I was minding my own business, trying to use what little Spanish I knew at the time to talk to the person next to me. Out of nowhere, I felt something warm dripping down my face. As I tried to figure out what was happening, the warm sensation suddenly ran down my cheek onto my shirt and down my legs. It felt like it was the combined effort of at least 6 birds working on target practice.

The most ironic thing about each of these crappy encounters has been the reaction of the people around me or the people who listen to me share these unfortunate tales. After I was the recipient of bird droppings on my face, at least 5 strangers came up to me and commented on the LUCK I must have in life.

It's funny how a situation that could be perceived as no more than a horrible addition to a normal day is suddenly given such noble labels. It seems silly that anyone would even think to call all of this "luck".

Yet I can't help but think that maybe the people in this country I currently call home have figured something out. There are so many things that happen in life which nobody can control. These things can frustrate us, confuse us, inconvenient us and cause us to frown. Why not change our perspective? We all have a choice.

My hand, shirt and face were all covered in unpleasant stuff, but life too is often full of unpleasant things. We each have a choice as to how we react to what happens. Some call it unfair or get upset. Some laugh and keep going. Some point fingers and blame the birds. Others call it luck.

Lucky me.