RIFLE RANGE BOY

I have the urge to laze around all day on a Sunday because I know that my services are not needed. I convince myself that I should reward myself by patting myself at the back and tucking myself to sleep. After all, I have been on my feet all week long. Even God who created the Universe rested on the Sabbath. Fine. I pamper myself on my rest day. My regular activities and clockwork-like demands of duties kind of puts my biorhythms in place. That is, I know I will need to do this and that with the satisfaction that whatever I am doing serves a certain purpose in continuity of life; of my life, my progeny, my lineage, perhaps the next generation and wishfully mankind on the whole. I shudder to think what will happen when I am given the standing orders or 'privilege' to stop doing all these. No more deadlines to meet and no more compulsions to present myself in person to perform my one thing I am given the pleasure of! What happens next? Am I going to slide down the pat...

There is an unwritten rule. If ever anything is destined to go wrong, it would. No matter where you are and what you do, if it is to, it definitely would. Some would call it 'Murphy's law' which dictates that if anything that can go wrong, it will go wrong. On the other hand, on the anti-pessimistic stance of things, there is also a softer side of Murphy's law where nature is kind and not so vengeful. I have not found a name for it yet. Sometimes, a potentially explosive situation does not flare up until the situation is ripe. If destiny is on your side, even the most heroic one in a million kind of desperate ditch in helpless of times may appear fruitful. In a way, it is reverse 'Murphy's Law'! A Professor in Obstetric told the class of a particular Bedouin gipsy lady who travelled all through the Sahara desert only to collapse right in front of a district hospital to be operated for a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. In the worse of times, in battlefields...