There is no reason to go teach your class, because your day is ruined. You stepped on dog shit while wearing sandals, and your life is over. Days later, during therapy, you observe how quickly your thought patterns wander and escalate—from I stepped on a steaming pile of excrement to clearly, I will die. But it is not yet days later. It is right now, and your sandal is caked in it. You begin Googling Legionnaires on your phone. Was this dog shit, you wonder, or did this come from a raccoon? “Siri,” you implore, “What is the deadliest of all shits?”
Your mind wanders, tumbles, pulsates. Can you transmit shit germs to other people? How long do you have left to live? Can shit travel through socks? (In this story, you are one of those uncool people who wears socks with sandals. Come to grips with your fashion faux pas. You have enough to worry about, what with all of the shit in your soon-to-be-over life. Siri cannot save you.)