At the beach earlier this week, my sister found herself on the receiving end of a delivery from a seagull -- much to her horror at the moment, and the amusement of everyone I've told the story to since.
After the load landed, and when she returned from a run down to the water, she rhetorically asked me what she could have done to deserve such an improbable indignity. It was a few hours later that another sister reminded her that, earlier in the afternoon, she'd been giving me some grief for my pasty white legs. (I work in accounting news; we don't get out into the sun too often in search of a story.)
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