That big M tattooed on my chest? Uh, nope – just paint.
Maybe it’s the big M on my form-fitting super sexy spandex uniform of daily duties, the sequined M emblazoned on my ruby-colored cape, the glitzy grosgrain ribbon folded and tacked into embellishment in the shape of M’s, a perfect pair of M and M’s accessorizing my favorite shoes.
Lovely, the way those bow-bedeviled initials are designed with a convenient clip. I simply defrock one pair of pointy pumps, and slip the (scarlet?) M’s onto another as needed. A scarlet letter of my very own? And my fallen. . . S?
Dial M, for Murphy
Yes, I am outfitted head to toe (or so it seems) in the letter M, and no, it’s not for Moneybags, it’s not for Mysterious, it’s not for Mini-Mom, and it’s certainly not for Fernando Lamas You-look-Mah-velous! Nay, nothing so head-swelling or champagne-swilling, it’s the beleaguered branding of M for Murphy’s Law!
Quite simply, I’ve been the polite entertainer, the tolerant provider, and wish to boot the uninvited guest-in-residence OUT. I’ve had quite enough, thank you. Murphy, Murphy please no more. Might you simply move next door?
Broken things
Where shall I begin?
Necessary niceties? Long gone. Structural issues? Check. Health hiccups? Yup. Technology traumas? Of course.
Wardrobe malfunctions? (No. Not mine. Try tennis or pop stars.)
- Mobile communication conundrums? Cell phone, dead.
- Second (borrowed, used) cell phone? Check. On its last (invisible?) legs.
- Computer printer-scanner-copier? Check. No pulse.
- Laptop meltdown? Check. Though I’m typing on something, right? Up to limping status. And I am grateful!
- Two house phones, dead.
- Squirrels in the attic. Exactly. Not dead.
Just part of Modern Life you say? (Damn, there’s another ML.) But let’s add to the fun, shall we? This weekend’s (increasingly usual) internet, enjoying a roller coaster of manic depressive behavior, up then down, up then down. Perhaps it’s just sweatin’ to the oldies, like I ought to be?
M for More
Anything more? Oh sure!
Lawn mower, dead. Dishwasher, dead. Fancy kitchen counter lights, dead. (I terminate here, lest I bore, as I fear.)
And then there is my sleeping. Perhaps the worst of all. No sleep, no zip, no zap, no brain refrain beyond the plain when it comes to mind-language-fingertip communication. No fun if you call yourself a writer.
(Should I call myself Lady M? Does anyone have any marmalade??)
Could it be worse, this curse? Reason to fret? You bet. All of these things cost big bucks to repair or replace, and the pace of (planned obsolescence?) of their demise is a disgrace! As for the moans and groans – blame my weary bones!
W for Winner? S for Superwoman?
So while these Murphy-manipulated items are only the most recent, the tip of the proverbial iceberg of extended visits of the big M, I know it can always get badder, and then I’ll get Madder! But I am so ready to reverse the trend, to upend the M and return to W for Winner! For Wonder Woman, for Wry Writer, for Witty Wolfie. And I’d like to boot that moocher Murphy right out of my house!
- Ever feel like Murphy’s Law is running rampant in your life?
- For those who say “you make your own luck,” is it that simple?
- How do you shake the ML curse, and if so, might you offer your wisdom, your antidote, your country estate so I may escape??
Is there a seamstress in the audience? One who might painstakingly remove each embroidered, stamped, stapled, painted, bedecked “M” from my weary wardrobe and put the “S” back for Superwoman? For Sassy? For Sensible Semi-Simpler life?
Couldn’t we go with some other “laws” instead — the laws of attraction or even the law of gravity?
(Wait… I’m still in search of that lower gravity planet so as to prevent All Bodily Parts Going South…)
Any other Superwomen out there looking to rewrite Murphy’s Law?
For me it is just bad timing. I am never in the right place physically, emotionally, socially, professionally, at the right time.
Just saw Billy Crystal on the Jay Leno show the other night. He still looks Marvelous!
I wish we could figure out a way to get you to the Blogher conference in NYC this summer, BLW. Networking, having folks so your face seems to be important. There’s got to be a way to turn your growing fame and devoted readership into dollars.
In the meantime, are there any readers in your “area” who are good at fixing electronica or have extra phones?
As long as the squirrels stay in the attic, I’d try to put them on the end of the list. They don’t borrow your laptop, do they?
My growing (in)fam(y)? You make me chuckle, Elizabeth. The squirrels will chew through wires, and ultimately cause problems. I also don’t sleep as it is. They’re little noises make it even harder. Time to go for the big guns, and send my 16-year old up there to do it. And cross my fingers. The thing is, we can also see the small hole where they’re getting in, but we can’t get to it to nail a board there. That requires a handy person with special ladder, as the location is where the property is steeply sloped.
Hmm. Maybe those critters HAVE been using my laptop!
Can you put steel wool in the hole? Might be easier than a nail and a board.
Murphy needs to visit someone else!!
For heaven’s sake make sure you don’t nail them in. We did this by accident with some birds (bird turd everywhere) and unless there’s a market for squirrel poop (you know, like bat merde), make sure they’ve left before you stop-up the holes.
You certainly know how to make no-fun seem like fun. Sorta.
Wish you could sell a rants column to someplace. You’d make a fortune. No one does it better. Seriously. You could be the (young) female Andy Rooney.
Get in touch.
xoxoxo,Tish
As always, you take the shittiest shit and make it funny. It’s a gift. It’s why I love checking in with you.
I am no seamstress. Just a fan of you and your words and your ability to lace Modern Life, real life, with exquisite exasperation and humble humor. Bravo. Times ten.
I hate to be so unoriginal..but I really can’t top TheKitchenWitch. My sentiments exactly.
I’ve always disagreed with the idea that we make our own luck. There are plenty of aspects of our lives that are under our control, but how to control the Murphy-esque maelstrom that seems to be visiting you? Sure, we make choices based on the hand we’re dealt, but a pair of twos is never going to beat a Royal Flush.
f u murphy
go back to hell
pardon my profanity ladies 😉
Well to be honest, my sentiments exactly.
Champagne, chocolate, fondue. Followed by Zumba, therapy and a trip to Greece without the kids, on credit. Then your luck will return.
When I think about those mice I want to scream!!
Wolf, I am amazed that you could find a poetic way of describing your mouse situation.
Mama said, there’d be days like this, there’d be days like this, mama said…..
Only some have them more than others. And I can go a mighty long stretch like you have. Here’s to things looking up soon!
I am so sorry that Murphy has made his way to your place… one look at my blog and you will see where he has been residing up until now.
I even had a post about big ‘ol M.
He is a celebrity of sorts I suppose.
He’s been hanging around for about 5 years. So he has a twin, huh? 🙂
Oh Wolfie. Wolf, Wolf…Fuck Murphy AND his white fucking horse.
Oops, am I cursing again? Man, I’m going to give myself such a bad wrap. Listen, I have a cell phone if you can use it. Actually, we have a few. Email me. About everything else? God damn! (shit, there I go again)
I don’t know about “make your own luck” as it sounds just too romantic. But I DO KNOW that one thing rolls into another thing too easily and it takes a determined hand to stop it, lest we go rolling down the hill along with all our health, wealth and happiness.
Come North for a visit! I will wine and dine you and give you an S for Super Sassy or a W for Wicked Winner Wolfie!
Aw, you’re sweet, Sarah. I don’t know about “make your own luck” as romantic, but I think it’s unrealistic. As for New England in the winter, I might need to wait until spring has sprung, or you wouldn’t be able to see me over the snow drifts.