Murphy, you old So and So

If you know Dave Ramsey, you know he talks about Murphy (of the highly acclaimed Murphy's Law - "whatever can go wrong, will go wrong") and how Murphy will take up residence in your spare bedroom at the first real signs of financial progress. Well, cocky old Debt Daddy was beginning to think he was immune to Murphy's advances - that things were moving ahead so well it would be very difficult for Murph and his stinkin' law to put the brakes on. Silly Debt Daddy.

First it was the tires on my wife's van which at first glance looked fine, but upon closer inspection revealed themselves to be nearly as balding as old Debt Daddy hisself. And when do you have that "closer inspection"? Why, during a snow storm, of course! During our first real bit of snow up here my wife, try as she might, was just not able to make it all the way home from work. We live high on a hill and she was only able to make it about 2/3rds of the way up before she had to call the game due to lack of traction. As I saw her walking up the remainder of the way, I grabbed my shovel, gloves, salt and over-inflated male ego and trudged down the hill toward where she had left our stranded vehicle, grumbling to myself about what I had to assume was a certain link between estrogen and an inability to drive in slippery conditions. I would move that van, dammit. Armed with testosterone, I could not fail.

Forty five minutes later, I had moved the van - all the way across the street and ten feet further down the hill from where my wife had gotten it in the first place. It was then that I examined the tires and realized that my wife had to be a pretty spectacular driver just to make it as far as she did. I walked back up the hill, tail between my legs (there was plenty of room for a tail there, as all traces of the aforementioned testosterone had vanished or were hiding in shame) and apologized to my wife, promising to get new tires for her ride.

The tires priced out pretty well, and looked like they might only be a small hiccup in our financial plan. But of course, once the tires were off, you could see that the brakes were shot. Once the brakes were off, you could see how one of the struts was leaking. What started out as a hiccup grew into financial projectile vomiting by the time I was done there, and I returned home feeling safer on the road, but just a little financially violated.

A few days later, I was recovered and ready to face my bills again, when my wife called me to tell me about our new indoor water feature. Now, I like indoor water features. I think they're a lot of fun - soothing, feng shui-ish fountains and water walls bring out Debt Daddy's inner metrosexual, calming his troubled brain. My wife quickly brought me out of my Carradine like state of zen when she informed me that, instead of a gentle trickling of H2O over acrylic stone, what we had was a washing machine drain pipe that was backing up and sending water quickly in the wrong direction - i.e. all over the floor. Plumbers were called, and Rooter Men were recommended. Rooter Men came and plumbers were recommended. Turns out the pipe, which was thought to be clogged, was instead eaten away by the slab foundation in which it was seated. A brand new drainpipe had to be installed and other sundry plumbing issues were addressed. By the time everything was done, I think I paid for my plumbers entire Christmas shopping. Ah, the price we pay for proper drainage.

So, my wife and I have agreed - she got me new tires, brakes and struts for Christmas, and I got her a new drainpipe and the use of her washing machine back (not as romantic as the whole comb, watch fob, Magi thing I know, but it works for us). And, in a continued spirit of giving, we're giving Murphy the shaft. He trashed my guestroom, so I'm kicking him to the curb (do the kids still say that? I'm so out of touch). Let him party like a rock star in someone elses house.