Murphy's Law

I joke a lot that anything that can go wrong in my life, will. Nothing ever serious or life-altering, but petty little things just don't work in my favor very often. Like, if I am running a couple minutes behind and have to drive across town, I will, undoubtedly, end up getting stopped at every single stop light. And 9 times out of 10, if there is the world's slowest driver on a two lane road, you can find me right behind him. Or if there is a slick spot in the road/on a sidewalk, I will find it and inadvertently contort my legs in a position that is beyond unnatural. Twenty-two years of this nonsense and I've learned to expect it. And do nothing more than laugh. It is quite funny, and how can I not laugh at the fact that I am notorious for face planting? It is what it is.

So of course, the one weekend I plan to socialize with people above the age of 4, the weather men (weather persons, for you politically correct folk) in the area are predicting, and I quote, "The biggest snow storm of the season." Well duh, Marianne. How foolish of you to think driving to Ohio in the middle of winter would ever go off without a hitch. And the bigger problem is that I may be able to get to Ohio ahead of the storm, but I have a commitment back in Indy that I can't miss Saturday night. And, again, Murphy's Law would let me get to Ohio, but not get back to Indiana in time. Fingers crossed my reunion with some of my favorite college buddies (for the first time since graduation in May) is able to happen. But if not, my mother, the comedienne, said, "Well, you can always drink vodka and lemonade here." At least I have her approval.

Peace. Love. Happiness.