Friday, March 27, 2009
This morning I was early to work, so I sat on one of the granite planters at the ugly wedge of developer folly called “Forte” on Fulton and Ashland to kill some time. I pulled out a magazine to wile away the minutes in the glorious spring sunshine, and right away noticed a bee land on my right pants leg just up from the hem. She might have come from John Howe’s Fort Green hives. I crossed my legs to get a better view. What was she up to? She put her mouth right up to the fabric as if she was sucking it. Her abdomen was lifted and contracting. Fifteen, thirty seconds. Then she flew off, and I notice several little spots on my pants. She’d pooped on me.