I probably should have posted already - I have been in the "should post" stage for some time, actually - but somehow it has not stricken me as urgent enough to warrant setting aside time in my (also) rather busy schedule these days to do so. I'll get it done - when it's necessary if not before - but until the exam rush is over, my presence may be slightly erratic.

That aside, I feel that I must regale you all with a tale that stands as an example of my life, all completely true. I've just returned from celebrating my parents' wedding (apparently my father decided that they should be married on their 30th anniversary), and as is custom on such occasions I opted to wear my best suit. The ceremony went nicely, as did the reception - which lasted around four or so hours - , and despite of numerous close calls and plentiful foodstuffs with toppings and the like that could easily spill and stain my suit, I got through it all without as much as a crumb getting on it. Once my parents friends and our more distant relatives departed the reception, our closest family was all that remained for a less formal dinner. Note that at this point I felt certain in my achievement and took off my suit jacket and unbuttoned my shirt, allowing myself a little reprieve from the tension of wearing expensive clothes.
As it would happen, however, about half an hour after my decision, the others seemed to decide that they wanted several series of pictures taken in the garden of the newlyweds, including a series with their children and grandchild, including me, posing with them. So I put the jacket back on and fixed my clothes, to look nice for the last time of the day before I could finally relax.
I went outside to find my parents already being photographed, and took up position by the house - a fair distance from the outcropping roof, and far from any adjacent trees, it should be noted - and waited for the imminent time when I would be required to stand beside them. It was a chilly afternoon, and the bright green of the willow behind my parents stood in sharp contrast to the gray sky, and stray strands of hair kept being stolen away from my ponytail and float eagerly on the lively winds of the day. The air smelled damp, as there had been a number of brief rainfalls throughout the day. The only sounds that could be heard were those of cameras clicking and my family quietly conversing.
Then I feel something like a light tap on my right shoulder, hear a subtle "tuck" and think I register movement by the right side of my head. Confusedly I look behind me, thinking that someone threw a small stick at me (which was the source I found the best match between the sound and feeling), but there was no one there. Next (with a delay of maybe a second) I grew annoyed that someone would throw something at me like that when I was wearing my best suit. Then I noticed there was something [I]on[/I] the suit, on my right shoulder, and wondered what a small stick could have left on it.
I looked. Threw off my jacket to hold it in front of me to get a better look, exclaiming (loosely translated to English): "That just isn't happening!"
After the entire day, after I had taken it off and set it aside, after having survived numerous hazards that could have stained my suit, after having put it back on and gone outside - away from everything that should have posed a risk towards it - and about to pose for a picture with my parents... a passing bird decided to take a shit on me. On my shoulder, down my back, in my freakin' ponytail; birdshit everywhere. Needless to say, this was a recurring joke told throughout the evening. How unlikely was that? they would marvel, laughing all the while. I was lucky because it was so unlikely. Yeah.
And the moral of the story is this: if you wear an expensive suit, the entire [I]universe[/I] is going to make sure it gets stained. And: I am an exceptionally lucky person, apparently. Sure doesn't feel like it, though.