That Darned Murphy

Okay, so life is ruled by the ever-present Murphy's Law.  Who is this Murphy anyway, 'cause I'd sure like to give him a piece of my mind.  There are only so many things that one can be prepared for.  Trying to think of everything pretty much sucks the fun and spontaneity out of everything.  I do a fairly good job of sucking the fun out of things on my own.  I really don't need any help in that department.  It's hard to be fun when you have a family that seems to be accident prone.

I have learned that if I go on a date with my Hubby, if I actually find a day that we are both free and someone is willing to stay with the kids, that is the day that I forget to wear deodorant or my hair looks like Cher's in 1989.  Not the look or smell I would be going for.  Every time I try to do something special or nice or just different, well, that is when this Murphy fella decides to show up and throw a wrench in the works.  We make plans to go to the carnival, the house is overtaken by tummy trouble and duck squirts.  We decide to  hop in the car and go for a drive in the country and there is a monsoon before we get on the highway.  I decide to make peanut brittle, and I make excellent peanut brittle.  This time I bought the good melting chocolate and I was going to make chocolate covered peanut brittle.  It isn't difficult to do, but it is a process.  I get to the point where I'm almost ready to pour out this bubbling hot liquid that turns into this completely unhealthy yumminess and I step on the cat that was supposed to be outside and in that two seconds the peanuts catch the stuff on fire.  Who knew that could even happen?  Not me, that's for sure.  So now, all that time standing and stirring and eyeballing, and pretending that my kids aren't tearing up the house while I'm in the kitchen, all that is wasted.  The house is a wreck thanks to my human tornadoes.  After all that, I have no chocolate covered anything.  I have no melt in your mouth deliciousness to melt away the stress.  No, Murphy killed my cooking high, (kind of like a runners high, but only shows up while concocting decadent creations in the kitchen).

Right now I would settle for chocolate creme Oreos, but I have none of those either.  What I have is a can of pineapple and some whipped creme.  That's just not going to cut it.  So I will spend this evening nibbling on everything and satisfied by nothing.  And in the morning I will wonder, once again, why I seem a bit wider than the night before.