Mrs. Murphy's Law

There are certain immutable laws at work in the universe that seem to defy easy explanation or understanding; nevertheless, we know they DO exist. One such law was discovered and named by a certain “Mrs. Murphy.” She must have been the wife of the famous “Mr. Murphy,” who traveled a lot. It states WHATEVER CAN GO WRONG WILL, WHEN HE IS OUT OF TOWN.

Even though I could never explain to you the law of gravity or the theory of relativity, I have had countless episodes of firsthand experience with Mrs. Murphy’s Law, and can tell you exactly how it works.

To begin with, everything seems normal and fine. Life is humming along as usual, with no apparent problems or glitches. Don’t let this fool you. After you kiss your husband goodbye at the airport and about the time he is settling into his comfortable seat on the plane and the flight attendant begins passing out the beverages, the world at home as you know it will begin to unravel.

Children who were as healthy as a horse two hours ago will begin to have flu symptoms. Formerly reliable household appliances will cease to function, toilets will overflow, and the car will suddenly develop a troubling problem that makes it unsafe to drive. These problems will usually manifest themselves in groups of three successive events. For instance; just about the time the kids all have the flu and you have a houseful of soiled laundry to contend with, the washing machine will break. Then, when you desperately need to run to the grocery store for some more 7-Up and crackers, the car won’t start. Yes, this is Mrs. Murphy’s law in action.

Don’t ask me why it happens or how, I just know that it does!

My husband traveled extensively when I was a young mom and after surviving just about every mishap and breakdown imaginable, including a near tornado touchdown in Chicago, I thought I had seen it all. Boy was I wrong!

One cold week in December, just before Christmas, when our young family was living in the suburbs of Lake Oswego, Oregon, my husband traveled out of town on business. We awoke to snow the next morning, which meant no school for the kids. It was a blustery day and I didn’t leave the house until later in the afternoon, when I decided to go check the mailbox.

As I was making my way down the driveway, I noticed a large, stiff animal that looked something like a dog, right in the middle of my front lawn. On closer inspection, and to my shock and horror, I realized that it was a huge, frozen, dead opossum! The biggest opossum I had ever seen, there it lay, frozen stiff as a board, paws in the air, eyes glazed open with frozen streams of blood stuck to one side of its mouth.

I was dumbfounded to say the least! In Oregon, opossums are something of a nuisance and though seldom seen during the day, they sometimes can be spotted in your car headlights at night as they scurry across the street. Apparently this one had made its last run, and then keeled over right smack in the middle of my front lawn. Why the finger of fate had pointed at MY front lawn was apparent…Mrs. Murphy’s Law. After all these years she was getting creative.

I stood there for a few moments contemplating the absurdity of my situation. I couldn’t just leave it there. The ground was too frozen to dig a grave, and the garbage truck would not be by for another week. I mean “Who ya gonna call” in a situation like this….’Possum Busters? It was all so bizarre, to this day I wonder if it wasn’t someone’s idea of a practical joke!

As I stood staring at my predicament, I suddenly found myself surrounded by my two sons and the boys from next door. “OH COOL! Look at this! How gross, it even has blood coming out of its mouth!”

To hear their enthusiasm you’d think it was the most exciting thing that had happened in the neighborhood all year. By now I was almost laughing. It was hysterically funny in its own sick way. “What are you going to do with him, mom?” my son asked. “Can we keep him?” Absolutely not, I thought. “Then can we help carry him off somewhere?” The boys all asked.

Suddenly I knew I had found my help. “I know what we need to do,” I announced. “Will you boys help me?”

“Yeah, this is going to be cool!” They all yelled.

As I searched the garage for a large box, the neighbor boys ran home to ask their mom if they could go for a short ride with us. With the boy’s eager willingness to help, we lifted “Chuck” the dead ‘possum into the box and loaded him into the back of my mini van. Close to our neighborhood were some vacant fields and wooded areas where I hoped we might be able to find a permanent resting spot for “Chuck the ‘possum,” as the boys had dubbed him.

After carefully avoiding a police car that seemed to be following me (how would I explain this?) We finally found a secluded spot where we stopped the van, opened the hatch back, and with a mighty heave-ho bid final farewell to our friend.

I thought this was the end of a crazy day, and I never wanted to think about Chuck the ‘possum again.

A few years later when my youngest son was in fourth grade his teacher gave each child a writing assignment. Each student was to write about an “uplifiting holiday memory” that would be gathered and compiled into a story booklet, along with favorite holiday recipes from the moms. I dutifully sent in my recipe and thought nothing more about it until the last day of school before Christmas break. On that day my son presented me with the copied book of stories that went home as a Christmas gift to each family.

As I glanced through the sweet little stories of kindness, giving, and Santa Claus, I finally found in copied print for all the parents to read, right next to my recipe for butterscotch cookies, the story of “Chuck the ‘Possum”, in all it’s graphic detail, as only a ten year old boy can describe. I was horrified!

This is your “Uplifting Holdiday Story?” I asked? What is so uplifting about a frozen, dead opossum?

“Oh mom, don’t you remember how cool it was? We had to “UPLIFT” Chuck into the back of the mini-van. My teacher loved it. She even read it to the class.

To this day I have never forgiven her.