I am an accident waiting to happen. I wasn’t always this way.
I wasn’t always clumsy.
This adjective that now so deftly describes me, wasn’t always… well, the case. I am a balanced individual. I have great hand-eye coordination. I am good at sports. I can dance. I have rhythm. I can hold yoga poses.
But sometime after I became a parent, the clumsy button somehow got activated in my head and it has never looked back. I run into things. I drop things. And I have no idea how it happens.
Case in point: a few nights ago, I broke our coffeepot. I swear to you, that it spontaneously combusted. I have no idea how it happened. One minute, the coffeepot is whole and the next minute it is shattered in pieces all over the counter. I didn’t drop it. It didn’t fall. It just exploded.
I’ve hit my head on cabinet doors so many times, I can’t even count. Walls jump out at me (or I run into them….sigh). I slammed my own finger in the microwave door, which still to this day makes me laugh when I think about it. I shut the door with one hand, while my other hand was in the way. Who does that???
At this point, I think my husband fears for my safety. Two weeks ago, I broke some glasses that I didn’t even know were on the counter. Then after cleaning up the glass, I went to put the broom away, and lifted the broom too high that it almost got chopped by the ceiling fan. Who does this?