MURPHY’S LAW MORNING

I woke up with the sun streaming into our bedroom. The day held so much promise as I descended the stairs, dreaming of a steaming cup of black coffee. A few peaceful minutes later, I took my first sip of the glorious brew and made my way into our son Trent’s bedroom.

He was slumped over the computer, having obviously pulled an “all-nighter.” I kissed him on the forehead and told him to get ready for school, to which I received a grunt.

Our dog, Lexa, who had followed me, began to jump on my leg, indicating it was time to be let out. I opened the door and as she raced off to do her business, my thoughts drifted to what to make for breakfast. The day seemed to call for a fruit smoothie: easy, nutritious, fast. I figured it might just hit the spot, especially for our sleepy, disgruntled sixteen-year old.

As I pulled the large bag of frozen mixed berries from the refrigerator, Trent started screaming at his printer. It had decided to quit working right when he desperately needed to print out his completed science project. He continued to rant and rave while the dog barked to be let inside.

My attempts at calming Trent were futile. At last we opted to email his project to me and then we’d try printing it from my computer. Time was whittling away and the stress was building. We walked into my office and I let the dog back inside. As I focused on the computer, I smelled something awful and turned to see Lexa leaving a line of diarrhea across my beautiful, light green carpeting. Then she attempted to wipe herself off, grinding the feces in as she continued to pull herself forward using her front paws. Trent and I both screamed and the dog whimpered in fear. I picked her up and rushed her to the sink, only to brush by the bag of red and blue berries on my way. They fell to the floor in a loud crash and scattered everywhere. I nearly screamed again but didn’t want to scare the dog. Why had spent two hours mopping my floors the day before? It was pointless. Within seconds the light, beech wood floor looked as if a wonderful contemporary artist had just used it as a canvas.

The dog continued to whine as I attempted to clean the diarrhea off her. And then the doorbell rang. I tried to ignore it, but the person rang it persistently, like a young child who never gives up. I left the dog in the sink and did my best to clean up enough to answer the door. It was the Orkin man, here for the pest treatment that I had ordered. I let him in, apologized for making him wait and told him to join the party.

Trent yelled that he was going to miss the bus. I rushed past Lexa, told her to stay still, made my way quickly back to the computer, logged into the Gmail account, opened Trent’s file, and at last pushed print. The printer revved to life and then the paper jammed. Everything stopped.

Trent went ballistic as I ran back to Lexa. And then the phone rang. It was my husband, who asked, “Is now a good time to talk?”

I had two choices, cry or laugh hysterically.

As I dangled the phone, covered again in dog manure, I took a deep breath and chose instead to see the blessings amongst the chaos. I had a family, dog, home, food (albeit on the floor), security and love. I was not going to allow a few “thorns” to push me off course and throw away the gift of this day.

My husband was waiting for a response.

I burst out laughing and then doubled over in hysterics.

“Yes, Dear, it is a perfectly wonderful time to talk!”

John Lennon once said: “Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.” It’s all in our perspective, and how we choose to respond to what life throws our way.

On that note, make your day a great one! Xo

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