Fish

I had zero reasons for resenting the bird that stole my fish. In truth, I hate cleaning fish. I hate fish guts. That derives from filling bait bags for lobster traps one summer when my in-laws thought it would be a great idea for me to work as a stern man for a lobsterman. That didn’t last. I had zero aptitudes for even simple things like using the gauge correctly.

In fact, I’d prefer, well, almost, applying bottom paint to a boat than filling bait bags. So when the bird stole the fish. I felt little pain. Dinner would be fish and chips at the local restaurant, and I was happier for it.

So I quickly zipped up my bag, walked into town, and had a great dinner looking out on the harbor. When asked what luck I’d had, I said, “ Zip, Zero, Zilch.” Some days are better than others.

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