Murphy's Law

I might try to go all out this weekend and either have some interesting thoughts or activities to write about and fondly think about (yay economist bowling time), but until then, let me call this the official "poor me" week and onwards we go to Murphy's Law.

Today as I lept out of the house, a spring in my step, just dying to work that one last day of the week, but my enthusiasm was put through a test. I waited for the bus and I waited some more, I waited for a time span that allowed me to read the metro thoroughly, allowing me to gain insights into today's relevant issues such as Maddy's Mom bonding with Mom is disappeared Spanish girl, Heathrow crash landing pilot deserving a metal the size of a frying pan and sure enough, housing prices crashing towards a long awaited equilibrium. I also had time to admire every other bus going nowhere close to where I was bound, going by on average every four minutes. I waited long enough that I was hoping to see someone go by twice. Furthermore, I got my heart beat up a few times when I saw my very own bus tease on by, say every ten minutes (it's a crappy line to begin with), but every time, it was one bound for the wrong direction or the right direction because I was getting ever more ready to accept my fate and spend the day on the couch re-watching the entire first season of House.

Just to clarify, I am not really directionally challenged, it's just that where I wait is a cule de sac roundabout situation where one can't tell what direction a vehicle is bound unless one reads the announcement window apparatus on the front bus window which sometimes one does not read too well and then one ends up going straight back to where one came from. Anyhow, one was reading well today, extra points, and so one was waiting and waiting and angering and drawing shapes with one's umbrella, angering more, creating a voodoo doll in one's mind, calling it bus dispatcher 316, stabbing it with knitting needles, feeling better, then forgiving, then angering and then finally getting on a bus.

I mean do I have my own Murphy? Is someone, call him God or Allah or Karma, sitting around waiting to poke me just to see if I will chew my own arm off?

You may say, isn't that assigning myself a bit too much importance? Not so. Because you see, yesterday, as I was rushing on homeward towards wine (!) and meat sauce I also waited and waited. Maybe not forty-five minutes but I waited long enough to see one man get a nice shave and haircut in the barber shop next door and I also had time once again to duly take notice of three buses belonging to my line going the other direction, i.e. the direction I was so cheerfully awaiting to go this morning.

I am starting to get the feeling that the world is turning one way but poor poor me is turning some other way and somehow we don't meet all that often.