Sunday, August 5, 2018

The tooth about Murphy

I woke up to the sound of the alarm. Something felt off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. My day didn’t normally start for another hour at least, but I had to be dressed and across town soon, so I stumbled to the bathroom to splash water on my face.

My jaw was a little sore. I’d been clenching my teeth. Maybe a smile would relax my muscles, help me feel more awake. So I smiled. In the mirror, a gap-toothed grin to rival that of any 6-year-old beamed back at me.

Sometime in the night, a crown had come off one of my front teeth.

I quickly searched around the bed. No crown. And no time to look any further. I had to get ready. In less than 30 minutes, my friend Charo was picking me up for an event we were attending. An event at which I was speaking.

And there I was, looking like a character from Lil’ Abner. Suddenly, I was Very Wide Awake.

Murphy, it seemed, had just upped his game.

Murphy and I have a long-standing relationship. He lurks, just out of sight, and little things go wrong. Or big things. A piece of software crashes just before a deadline. My neighbor’s cottonwood drops branches into my yard instead of theirs. And my car had just been declared un-roadworthy. That meant I’d have to take the bus to get to my out-of-town conference the next day.

Over the years, it’s become almost a game. How well can I roll with the punches? How quickly can I think of Plan B? or C? We’re cat and mouse sometimes, Murphy and me, and he keeps me on my toes.

As I stared in the mirror, my mind raced. This was a low blow, even for Murphy. Deep down, I have a stubborn streak of vain insecurity. I’d even gotten a fresh mani-pedi the day before to boost my confidence for the workshop. It seemed doubtful that little hoop earrings would distract much from the awkward gap in my mouth. Plans B, C and D were jettisoned as my mind raced and I got ready on auto pilot. Time to roll with the punches.

In the car, I told Charo what had happened. We laughed together and she told me to relax. My friends are a great counterbalance to Murphy. 

All through the other speakers’ presentations I used a little Mona Lisa smile, but my session was coming up right after lunch, the last one of the day.   

Over the years, I’ve come to see Murphy as God’s little civil servant. We all have a Murphy, of course, but my anthropomorphic version has faded red hair and a bristly little mustache. He carries a clipboard. There’s probably a baloney sandwich in his lunchbox.

His job is to make sure that I never get too comfortable or take too much for granted. And he’s very good at his job. He’s made me step out of my comfort zone, go on accidental adventures, and surprised me with perspective. Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate Murphy – or at least, be a little more at ease with his lurking presence. And here he was again. Who needs a comfort zone anyway?

After lunch, I walked to the front of the room. I looked out at the waiting attendees.

I told them about getting a mani-pedi because I always get a little nervous, and I flashed my bright red fingernails to make my point. I told them that God has a sense of humor and He has ways of making sure that I never take myself too seriously.

And then I flashed the biggest grin I could muster…

The next day, still congratulating myself for successfully rolling with Murphy’s latest punch, I called my dentist. They managed to squeeze me in for a temporary crown.

As I sat in the dentist’s chair, watching the minutes tick by on the clock, I realized something else.

I may have dealt with Murphy yesterday, and I may have made sure that I would not be toothless at the conference, but he had still won. In my effort to fix my dental woes, I had lost track of time. 

My bus to Austin had just left without me.

Well played, Murphy. Well played.






Ó Carol Shaw 2018