On Murphy's Law

I don't know the exact text of Murphy's Law, but it goes something like this:

Nothing ever goes perfectly. If it is going perfectly, you can be assured that at any point in the very near future something will go horribly wrong.

Now, I don't know this Murphy, but I'm convinced there is a special place in hell reserved just for him.

It's an amazing day here. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky. About 60 degrees, birds chirping....the whole deal. My house is clean, so I figure I'll take a few minutes to knit while Little Guy takes a little nap. He's been a bit under the weather today and has fallen asleep. Not five seconds after I settle in he's reeking of diarrhea. And he is most definitely awake. I go to get him a new diaper, and by the time I return to the livingroom he's in the 3 year old barf position (which is standing over the CARPET dangerously close to my new knitting project). And then the heaving begins. All. Over.

I take care of him, the clean diaper, and take the dirty laundry to the laundry room, and SQUISH. hmmmm SQUISH. Uh oh. The entire floor is covered in water. Well, since 2pm is a little early to pour up a tall glass of merlot goodness, I decide do the next best thing and ignore the laundry room for now. I grab the carpet cleaner and go to town on the barf spot. The HUGE barf spot. There is nothing like steam cleaning barf. The smell is atrocious. I thank God over and over for a suppressed gag reflex.

I get done cleaning the carpet, and when I turn off the cleaner IT barfs all over my carpet. I am NOT KIDDING. I have no idea if it's grease (do they need grease?) or if it has the same unfortunate reflux issue as the washing machine and my son. (and the cat, but at least she missed the knitting project and got a used skein of Lion Brand cotton ease)

Well, I have cleaned up the washing machine, the kiddo, and the carpet (to the best of my ability without a carpet cleaner) and I can now throw together another crappy dinner, put the kids in the bath, go through the bedtime routine, and maybe stay awake for Lost. Because I have to have my weekly dose of weird. And, when hubby (Flyguy) calls me from work to ask how my day went you can be sure I will embellish so he feels significantly guilty that this always happens when he's gone. Gone, I might add, to CANCUN. During spring break. He gets paid for this. It's wrong on so many levels.

Hate you Murphy. Hate you and the horse you rode in on. And I'm gonna have that glass of merlot as soon as kiddos are in bed. (Exactly one hour and ten minutes)