Universal Poo

Lately it seems like the Universe is amusing itself by seeing how far it can push me until my head explodes into a million tiny bits.  It appears that when you decide to pursue a path of acceptance and peace, the universe says “Oh, yeah?  Wait til you get a load of THIS!”

Then the Universe throws a ball of poo at you.

Maybe not actual poo, but it still stinks just the same.

And you say, “Ok, Universe.  I got your pooball, and I’m just going to put it over here in the toidy for you.  I know that’s where you meant to put it, instead of on me, and I’m going to help you out.”

So then the Universe rings your doorbell, but when you open the door no one is there.  Except that you smell something and you look down and this time the universe has left a flaming bag of poo on your doorstep.

And you shake your head and say “Oh that Universe is such a silly prankster.  What are we going to do with him?”  And you get out the fire extinguisher from behind the wood stove, where maybe it’s not such a good idea to store it, and you put out the flaming poo bag because at least you were smart enough not to stomp on it.

And then you go sit down and listen to the plinky-plinky music while sipping your hot cocoa and you hear this noise.  beep…beep…beep……beep…beep…beep

And you look out your window and that silly, prankster Universe is backing up a dump truck full of poo, and proceeding to dump it in your front yard.

And all of your friends and neighbors come by and shake their heads and wrinkle their noses and say, “Wow, that’s a great big pile of poo.”  And you say, “Why yes, Captain Obvious.  Yes it is a big pile of poo.  Thank you for admiring my poo because it is a mighty poo.”

And everyone leaves except your bestest friend in the whole wide world, the one who would never leave you alone with the poo, and you stand in the yard and try to figure out what you’re going to do with this much poo.

And you hope that the Universe will be distracted by watching you shovel the poo into wheelbarrows enough that he won’t want to bring more.  Because you think that next time he might bring a trebuchet, or maybe a canon, or some other creative poo-delivery device, and you might just have enough poo already, thank you very much.