Murphy undoubtedly is a tall, able-bodied man.
The bottles of medication defy my efforts to open them, due to the cautionary efforts of the FDA and the pharmaceutical companies. When I finally get the lids off, I leave them off so as not to challenge myself every day. Then I lose my balance and heart medicine gets scattered across the floor. Sigh.
In the kitchen, I can have things at one height: counter-top. Anything else requires me to stand on a bench (oh that’s a good idea) or wait for visitors; or hire small children to forage around in under-cabinets. Double sigh.
My furniture cannot be anything heavy or large; if it is, then somebody else has to fetch those things which I inevitably drop and lose beneath furniture. I recently found a ring that I thought I had lost during my son’s childhood but no, it had just fallen on the floor and rolled out of reach. Someone wonderful came to help me clean and lo, and behold, there was my garnet ring, under the dresser where it fell a lifetime ago. Unfortunately, I’ve broken so many fingers since then, that it no longer fits either hand. Triple sigh.
The docket gods don’t like me any more than those which rule my household. Lawyers snap at me for having no time and leave me wondering what happened to professional courtesy. Then I trot out my very best non-violent communication and the copy repair guy leaves without ordering a necessary part because, well, I guess I seem so nice. Ha. Quadruple? Is that a word? Quadruple sigh.
Why oh why did I ever decide to give up complaining? I must have thought Murphy’s law had been repealed.
Yes, Murphy is a tall, strong, able-bodied guy with infinite patience and a full household staff.
I either have to complain about his law or go have an ice cream. Hmmm. Well. Now there’s an idea.
I’m going to a Red Flag meeting for my sixteen-year-old client and will try not to shout at anybody, even those who richly deserve my wrath. Then I’m going to put on sweat pants and garden. Hopefully Murphy hasn’t gotten a hold of my garden tools!!!