Whose law is it?

The first Friday in June was the 2nd, but for me it might as well had been Friday the 13th. It started off early that morning as I sniffed the air like a hungry wolf. The aroma of last night's pasta sauce still lingered in the air, but it wasn't the smell I longed for; it wasn't the smell of fresh brewed coffee. "No, no, no. This can't be happening," I mumbled as I slipped on my fuzzy bear house shoes and trudged down the hall to the kitchen. Yawning I walked over to the counter where the coffee maker sat. The pot sat, obviously freshly washed, on the base of coffeemaker, a mug sat on the counter nearby, a note propped against it.

Hey honey, there wasn't enough coffee for two people, so I drank it
Hope you don't mind.

Love,
John

"Mind? Of course I mind." I growled. At that moment, I would have happily sold my first born for a steaming cup of java. The solemn chiming of the grandfather clock in the hall reminded me I only had an hour to get the kids dressed, get breakfast, and get Seth to 4H day camp.

Never enough time in the day, I'm always rushing somewhere. "Seth, get up!" I called, striding down the hall. I would have had more success trying to bring FRANKENSTEIN to life; there wasn't a peep from either one of my children.

.

I thought it would save time if I got ready first, and raced off to my bedroom. I have hardwood floors in my house, and when they're regulary waxed, they're as slick as ice and a hazard. I didn't see the small silver metal disc on the floor of my bedroom, stepped on it, flapping my arms like a giant heron as I went skidding across the room. Pictures on the wall shook on their hangers as I hit the floor with a thud and slammed into my dresser. I lay on my back and closed my eyes; every muscle in my body ached, and my head pounded as if the entire cast of River Dance were tap-dancing inside my head.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, and looked at my surroundings. A wedding picture hung askew near the doorway, and a couple of books had fallen off the dresser and lay on the floor near me. Every joint in my body screamed in protest as I sat up. My right wrist was swollen and hurt like a toothache.

"Mama, are you okay?" Seth asked, walking into the room.

Having no coffee and being in pain was taking it's toll on me. "No, I always look like I've been sucking on an onion. What do you think?" I snapped.

"Just asking."

"I'm sorry baby, it's my wrist. . .I sprained it." Ever the attentive helper, Seth helped me ice my wrist and put an old brace of mine on it when the swelling went down.

After I took him to 4H, the day got worse. The toddler dropped a piece of candy into my hair, which stuck, he spilled his bowl of spaghetti on my shorts, at which time I looked at the clock and saw it was past time to picked up Seth at camp.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my sticky hair. "No time to change. I never get out and no one I know ever sees me." Yeah right. I grabbed Robert and ran to the GMC, only to find the air conditioning had gone out.

"I'm hot, Mama," Robert whined as we set off.

"Okay baby. I'll roll down the windows and you'll get cooled off."

Time was the enemy as I turned onto a county road and accelerated. It won't hurt to speed a little on this road. No cops ever patrol it. Yeah right. As I topped the hill, I saw him at the bottom; a deputy on the side of the road, obviously working radar. As I drew nearer, he flicked his overhead lights on.

I was at the point of tears now. I HAD been speeding, but a ticket today was the icing on my rancid and molding emotional cake. I pulled over, and taking a deep breath, got the license and insurance ready.

I looked in the rearview mirror and felt my stomach flip-flop as I watched the deputy approach my car. I pressed my knuckles against my mouth, stifling an exasperated shriek.

The deputy approaching knew me well, I had worked with him years ago.

"Madam, I need to see your driver's li--." the deputy stopped in midsentance when he saw my face. " Holy crap, Deb! Is that you?" Mutely, I nodded my head, tears threatening to spill over at any time. "Long time no see girl."

I managed a watery smile, but remained silent.

"What have you been doing? Is this toddler your baby? No offense, but you look like crap."

The last comment was the one that burst my emotional dam. Between sobs, I told him about my horrible day.

I could tell he was trying not to laugh, but merriment danced in his emerald-colored eyes. "You've had a hell of a day," he said. Groaning, he straightened and turned to walk away. "See ya later," he called, getting into his patrol car.

I sat, baking and stunned in the oven-like GMC. The deputy pulled beside me and rolled down his window. "By the way girl, you were traveling 55 in a 40. Keep the speed down."

For once something has gone right, I thought.

When Murphy wrote his law, he had me in mind.