Isht like this always happens to me

When I was a kid, I had an awful babysitter who took care of me, my cousin, and various other children. Part of the poor care package she offered my family was that we had to bring our own snacks to her house. In addition, she'd often leave us unattended and let the older ones watch the younger ones. On one such occasion, I remember we had pretzel sticks for snack. That same day, I also remember a little boy pooping into a small bucket (the kind you'd use to build sand castles at the beach). Later, as some stupid child presented the dookie bucket to the babysitter, I remarked that our pretzels had been used to decorate the poo. In high school, there was the incident in the new bathroom off the Common Room in which some demented girl smeared feces all over the bathroom stall, floor, and mirror. In college, there was the shower shitter. This girl shat in each of the 4 shower stalls in my dorm bathroom- reinforcing the need for shower shoes. Now in London, my world is rocked by fecal matter once again.
Here's the situation. Yesterday was my first day of school with kids. Work was great! However, I was exhausted at the end of the day. Steph and I came back to our local pub, had dinner and a drink, then went home to crash. I napped for a few hours and got up when Roger called later that evening around 9pm. After putzing around on the internet for a bit, I decided it was time for bed at about 1am. I found it tough to fall asleep again, but I drifted off around 1:30am. At 2am, my neighbors decided that it was party time and blasted music for over an hour into our back garden. I lay in bed trying to block it out and managed to doze off again around 3am. Then, according to Steph (I don't really know because I was asleep), at 3:30am, some crazy woman came and buzzed our downstairs doorbell for half an hour. Steph looked out the window to see who was there, but since the woman was a stranger, Steph didn't let her into the building.
Fast forward to this morning. At 6am, I go out in my bathrobe to put the trash on the curb. I walk down the first flight of stairs to discover that the front door to the building is wide open. Who knows how long for? Who knows who opened it? Who knows who left it open? In my head, I vow to ensure that it's locked on my way back inside. As I walk out of the open door, I'm greeted by a log of human feces. The repugnant stench filled my nostrils as I hurried past. Leaving the trash on the curb, I ran by again, averting my nose and locking the door behind me. I sat alone, in horror at my kitchen table.
To whom does this type of thing happen besides me? I am a woman who is perpetually constipated- since birth! I blame it on the fact that I have an uptight personality which translates into me being literally, anal retentive. Consequently, I rarely encounter my own feces, let alone that of others. Why then, is my life plagued with shit? Literal shit. This much feces is too much for one person! If I begin to take laxatives regularly, will I stop encountering the feces of others?
I'm getting tired of this shit!