Murphy's Law is my every day

I embrace chaos. Whether it’s my mom sitting in an unmonitored wheelchair that is slowly snaking its way to the street, or locking myself out of the house for the 20,446,205th time, it’s just how I roll. It’s kind of my calling card that I always misplace.

Sometimes, however, I’m not entirely to blame. Sort of. I’m pointing at you, you smug son of a bitch, Murphy, and your stupid law. Yes, anything that can go wrong, often does.

You want examples? Fine.

IMG_0013Just this Tuesday, my  money -sucking cell phone company informed me that my phone is paid in full. Sweet Jesus! I’m $22/mo richer.

Just kidding! Yesterday, I dropped my phone in the toilet. PLUNK! Goldie Hawn just looked up at me with her sweet, fictional family. Long story short, I have a new phone and two-year payment plan along with a recently sanitized phone case. Gross, I know.

There was the time that our car was rear-ended in a suicide lane (when you merge into the left-most lane) which was crappy, but covered by insurance.  A day after I picked up our blue beast from the body shop, I backed into a car. Because, well, Annie.

A few weeks ago my mom was released from the hospital. Hooray! Except that just as I was wheeling her through the front door, my son’s school nurse called to tell me that lil’ EK ran into a brick wall or something.

“Please come get me, mama,” he said in a small, far-away voice (I honestly thought another kid was pranking me because he sounded so tiny). But alas, Ardie needed her med refills and someone to apply her blue eyeshadow, so I told my buddy to head back out to the playground and …I don’t know. I felt like a total failure.

Frankly, pretty much everytime she is discharged from a hospital, it falls on the one day I have unbreakable plans that end up trashed. Seriously. Every.Single.Time.

But sometimes karma kicks Murphy’s ass and  something weirdly good happens.

Like when I met my labor and delivery nurse, Dorcas (pr: dh OR – k aa s). That’s a hard “c” friends. Do you know how many people in the U.S are named Dorcas? Four. That’s just a guess, but it sounds pretty accurate. One of them was my great grammie Mildred Dorcas. BOOM! Bring on that baby because the Great G is here pumping sweet, sweet drugs into my veins and everything is going to be fanfrickingtastic!

Johnny Mic.

Johnny Mic.

Or when I left my wallet on a DC subway platform bench only to return to is still sitting there, full of money, cards and awesome pics of my teacher friends. How devastated would you be if you lost a picture like this?

This past winter, I received a package from a downtown restaurant that contained my wallet and all of its contents. Apparently it dropped out of my purse when I was busy sifting through crumbs for a lipgloss. Feel free to judge me on being so ridiculously irresponsible, but you have to admit that some people are pretty awesome.

How about the time my dad won a custom motorcycle right after he found out he had to have brain surgery?

Cats and dogs living together, I tell you.

So I roll with it and figure things will eventually workout – yin, yang and all that jazz. And if things do go awry, the  outcome is usually good for a laugh or two after a few serious head-bangs on the steering wheel.

via GIPHY;

No one ever accused me of being rational. Follow Swirleytime on twitter @swirleytime and Facebook for interesting stories, links and a lot of self-deprecating humor.

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    Annie Swingen

    Chicago-based hyperbole enthusiast. Mom to a kid and sometimes my mom. Overboard (1987) obsessed weirdo. I like the funnies in life.

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