My Friend Murphy

Murphy's Law. Don'tcha love it?

Today started out badly enough: the pitter-patter of rain on the roof woke me around 6:AM. I thought, "OK, it'll surely die down by the time I'm ready to get up". Around 7:30, I finally rose, and, sure enough, things had subsided to a light sprinkle. I took the dogs for a very quick walk (it was freezing!) and fed them. I had my oatmeal and blueberries (fresh!) and checked my email. By 9:AM I was ready to get things going for my appointment at Camping World.

I disconnected the dehumidifier and stowed it under the dining table. I packed up everything that was lying loose: the laptop, some magazines I'm making my way through, the fan, the trash can up in the alcove. I turned off the refrigerator. Next, I headed outside to the basement (outer storage area of the RV) and got my vinyl gloves on. I disconnected the electrical line and stowed the 50-to-30 amp adaptor inside the rig (I knew I'd be needing it again in just a few hours), then disconnected the water and stowed the line in the basement. I emptied the grey and black tanks. I disconnected the sewer hose at the RV end, and tied a plastic bag to the hose and left it connected to the sewer. I had seen another Park resident do this when he made a run in his RV while connected, so I figured that's a good way to do it for short hauls when you know you'll be back in a few hours.

I moved the Murano to the back of the RV lot and took one last, good look, inside and out, to make sure I was ready to move. Everything looked good and I was feeling confident.

That's when Murphy smiled at me.

As I was rounding the first corner of the lane that led to the Park office and exit, it hit me: the antenna! I had forgotten to lower it! Momentary panic hit, then I remembered that I still had to stop at the office and let the manager know where I'd be, so I could stop there and lower the antenna. OK. Not so bad.

I stopped at the office and talked to the Manager, then went back to the RV to crank down the antenna. Murphy smiled again and, this time, gave me little wink. Never, never crank down your antenna too tightly. The crank will break. It takes very little force. Evidently, where antenna cranks are concerned, better too loose than too tight. "Well", I thought, "good thing I'm on my way to Camping World".

Managed to get to Camping World (which is maybe a couple of miles away from the Park) without further mishap. Pulled in to the entry and let them know my name and appointment time. It was exactly 10:AM, my appointment time.

I took the dogs to the waiting area and watched MSN. Dogs were being good and were getting lots of attention from employees and other customers. Around 10:45, I thought I'd go see if the RV had even left the entry. As I was leaving, Murphy grinned and flipped me the bird. I thought I heard him giggle a little. The RV was just then leaving the entry, headed for the bay doors. What's the use of an appointment system if it's not honored? This is one of my pet peeves, but what're ya' gonna do?

At 11:15, the service guy told me to come see the technician. I had requested that I be there when they started work on the outlet that wasn't working, to see if maybe it was something I could have fixed myself. The dogs and I went to the service bay and the technician had a puzzled look on his face. He took me into the RV with a doodad that he plugged into the outlet, and said there was nothing wrong with it. He had the generator powered up, so I asked him if it mattered whether there's a difference between the generator and shore power relating to the outlets, and he said no. Don't you hate it when you go to the doctor for a sinus infection and by the time you get there, your infection has cleared up? That's what happened to the outlet. And yes, I felt foolish.

We left the bays and went back to the waiting area to wait for the antenna crank to be fixed, which I figured would be a quick job. Little did I know that Murphy was in the RV and by this time he was in high dudgeon, screwing up my schedule for the day.

At noon, exactly 12:00 noon, the service guy (not the technician) comes and says, "You're all set! He's finished. All I have to do is get your paperwork finished and you can go." I'm thinking "Alright! Things are moving along!" when Murphy moves in for the kill. I'm watching the service guy go to wherever service guys go to finalize a repair, when this other guy, who's obviously senior to the service guy, beckons him over and they walk away. The service guy looks back at me and says "Sorry!".

Thirty minutes later, neither my paperwork nor the service guy has shown up. I ask around. No one can find the service guy. My impatience must be all over my face, because people start moving, trying to find the RV, the service guy, and my paperwork. Finally, another thirty minutes later, someone says, "Your RV is in the entry way; we'll clear up any paperwork. You can leave if you like". Uh, yeah. I like.

In retrospect, not a big deal; not really. I didn't have anything else to do. I'm not on a clock any more. But I really dislike the disrespect I feel when this kind of thing happens.

To top off the whole event, by the time I got to back to the Park, the temperature had fallen to 39 degrees F, and it was raining. I had to move the SUV back into position, park the truck, and hook everything back in, in the cold. And in a bad mood. I hope Murphy catches pneumonia.