Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Murphy’s Law


Last night around 11pm, I finally felt sleepy enough to avoid the 3 am insomnia wake-up call.

But Murphy was there,  reminding me of his law 



So then, what went wrong last night?

If there’s a way to take the most space on your bed, the dogs will find it:

When you just want to crash, and there’s 3 inches of bed left,  100 pounds of dog becomes 1000 pounds when you try to move them.

But I was willing to try.

I reached down to pull the covers back and saw IT.

IT was all over the floor.  IT was on the middle of my 7-moving-blanket bed, and the sickly yellowish specks in the white froth were floating in plenty of liquid.

And that liquid had soaked into the bed covers...

…and all the bedding I’d just changed a few hours before.

Most people think in terms of a sheet set, 2 moving blankets and a comforter.  Noooo…I think in terms of 3 loads of laundry that wouldn’t be happening if a dog hadn’t lost his lunch.

I complained about it to my husband who said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I was eating gefilte fish and gave them some.”

We’re not even Jewish, so why would he eat fish from a jar that is, to put it politely, an acquired taste?

“It was on sale at the discount outlet for $1.00 a jar,” he said, taking a piece out and slathering it with a sauce men seem to guzzle.

And no…I’m not talking about beer.

For a man, anything is palatable if you put enough ketchup on it.