I nearly broke my hand this morning trying to use the toilet, leaving me with just one question. Could not karma wait to deliver such life reaffirming events until after a second cup of coffee? To me this seems a reasonable and just request – but alas the answer was no in this case, for today the gods of karma marched to a more malevolent agenda.

Even before this particular disaster, my hate-hate relationship with the bathroom was legendary. First there was my dislike for the many potential risks: slipping in the shower, toothpaste in eye, death by electric shaver. Second, and perhaps it’s the Y chromosone driving here, but my bathroom tactics always resembled NASCAR pit stops: get in, get out and keep your hands to yourself.

But back to the nearly broken hand. While tending to number 1 this morning, a fly buzzed my head and landed in the window sill – a typical sight during the long, hot summer months. Suddenly there was a tremendous pressure on my first finger. Glancing downwards, I discovered a yellow jacket checking out the real estate.

Self preservation impelled me to slap my own hand with tremendous and precise force. My finger, which absorbed the brunt of my rage and 2 stings, swelled immediately.

Maybe karma was on vacation, but Darwin was at work here. The yellow jacket laid on the tile floor; his body severed in 2 pieces. For the first time in my life I watched an insect writhe in pain until it died – a most satisfying and excruciating death.

Flushing never felt so good.