Karma is a funny thing. It’s like when you get a speeding ticket when you’re already late. Or when you wait your whole damn life to take a flight and when the plane crashes down you can’t help but say “well isn’t that nice?”
Wait. Is that karma or irony? Or Alanis Morissette?
Last week I was standing at the edge of the lake waiting for the ducks to show me where their food went and whether or not they were even hungry when I did the unimaginable. I accidentally stepped on one of their eggs. In heels.
I looked down and saw the yolk pouring out into the grass. Now, in my defense, this breed of ducks doesn’t fertilize their eggs and therefore I didn’t actually kill a baby. But man, it sure felt like it. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to care too much.
The following morning, after a horrible storm, I went out to feed the outdoor cat. I climbed up the ladder of the wooden play house and leaned in to get the cat food from it’s metal tin and as I did so the black cat (still damp from the previous evening) ran straight up the ladder through my legs.
Have I mentioned my dislike for cats?
As I’m shaking that off I go to descend from the ladder and wind up slipping on the wooden rung and falling backwards on my head and back and knocking myself out.
Is that duck karma? I’m pretty certain Penny the boxer thought so as she looked on.