I never met this "Murphy" character whose laws are so very infamous. But the dude just ain't right.
And the other day, I found myself right in the middle of a day that he clearly designed.
It all started at 4:30 a.m., like each weekday does for P.K.
Surely enough, I couldn't log on to my computer to send out my normal daily email of industry trends - just a habit for some friends and colleagues. Not too out-of-the-ordinary. It gives me trouble about 35 percent of the time, so I didn't think much of it.
Or the fact that I'd run out of K-cups for my coffee machine and therefore had to plan a little extra time to run through a to-go place for my java.
Hmm - a little irritating but no biggie.
I do admit, however, that I wasn't thrilled with my un-coveted spot in traffic - directly behind a chicken truck for 26 of my 28-mile morning commute.
Have you ever been behind a chicken truck for 26 miles? It's a painful, odorous crawl - and it always makes me feel really, really bad becuase I know where they're going ... and this last journey looks none too comfy for any of them.
Poor little things. Only thought that could interrupt my chicken trance was Mother Nature calling. No, not on my cell. Even she doesn't get up as early as I.
Nah, she just sent a little reminder that, despite my best efforts to take care of business before getting behind the wheel, I couldn't go to the bathroom until about 19 minutes into said commute along a two-lane stretch of highway where there's literally nothing for the next 14 miles except the slow-moving fowl, er, foul smelling chicken truck.
OK, I finally acknowledged Mr. Murphy with a hmpf ... and it wasn't even 8 a.m. yet.
The day continued on with five consecutive meetings followed by - wait for it - a dinner meeting.
Man, I hate back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back meeting days. My girlfriend Beth Wharton of Hubbard and I always joke that having any singular work day without a meeting is better than finding money.
Murphy must've invented the five-meeting day.
Hey, did I mention that the dinner meeting's keynote speaker, although not without merit, was angry and hostile and ranted about his topic for 58 minutes? Oh well, at least he made good on his promise to keep his presentation under an hour.
I swear that guy's last name was Murphy.
Anyway, back on the road home was I finally with only one quick pit stop into the grocery store to make. Only the store is being renovated, so not only can I find nothing I need, but also, they now no longer carry my favorite brand of hard-to-find healthy grain bread.
The "pit stop" morphed into a half-marathon.
Darned Murphy.
Next, a quick goodnight to my boys and a jaunt outside to accompany Monnie because I'm afraid to leaver her alone in the backyard since the creepy coyote sighting three days ago. BTW, he looks nothing like the Acme-product wielding Wile E. from Looney Tunes who's been trying to eat that sweet little Roadrunner since time began.
Either way, I think it might have been about midnight by the time I finally dozed off - only to sit straight up in bed recalling that I never put the wet clothes into the dryer ... or made the bagged lunches for my boys.
And, as I trudged downstairs bleary-eyed to complete my tasks, it hit me that I'd had the best day ever. Seriously.
It reminded me that I have the ability to see, hear, walk and talk; clothes on my back (not the fanciest ones, but still); a car; a job -and wait! - the world's cutest hubby, son and dog.
Ha! Is that all you got, Murphy?
Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle columnist. Contact her at any time, since she rarely sleeps, at pkimerer@zoominternet.net.