As I walked down the sidewalk, I heard a massive crashing noise behind me. A large birdcage had fallen from an upper story window, and missed me by a hair. Sadly, neither the cage nor the little birdie inside survived the fall. I was shaken, but unharmed, and continued my walk.
In the next block, a birdcage hit the sidewalk in front of me. I looked up quickly, but only caught a glimpse as someone stepped quickly back from a window.
For the rest of my day, I continued to have close calls involving birdcages, including one memorable ride in a birdcage elevator.
By day’s end, I was convinced that some clumsy oaf was determined to introduce me to the afterlife, but had mysteriously chosen to use a birdcage as a murder weapon. Possibly so that no one would take the notion of attempted murder by birdcage seriously.
That was yesterday. I wonder what unlikely thing will plague me today, butter knives?