The Litter Box

I used to think that being organized would negate being clumsy. I believed that as long as I kept things in their place, I wouldn’t misplace keys, stumble over masses of shoes, or bang, bump, and bruise myself on corners of furniture. But I was wrong. Organization does not stop clumsiness. The two are completely different qualities that are not necessarily tantamount, except for their shared coexistence… in me. You know how people sometimes refer to their clumsy moments? Well, my most recent “moment” lasted for 48 hours straight. And during those two very long days, I learned a few things about clumsiness that you might find interesting…

Clumsiness Makes You Late

It all started on Friday night. I got home from work with just enough time to give myself a quick manicure before heading out for a night on the town with my closest gal pals. But forty minutes later, there was more Cha Cha Cherry Revlon nail polish in the sink than on my nails. And you know what? Bright red nail polish stains porcelain just as much as it stains your hands. Barely satisfied with the clean up job and a little embarrassed by the red hue of my palms, I had to leave–now running almost an hour late.

Clumsiness Makes Normally Easy Tasks Incredibly Difficult

The next day I woke up much too early for a Saturday morning and decided to make use of the extra time by squeezing in an extra workout. The elliptical was calling so I jumped on, took two spins, and promptly fell off. I have no idea how. If you know how to walk, you know how to work an elliptical machine. But there I was splayed on the floor, a bit dazed, and nursing an already swelling ankle. I sat there for a minute or two, wondering if the puffiness or deepening black and blue warranted a trip to the Med Center. Naa, I thought, I’d just ice it, put an ACE bandage on it, and take it easy for a day or two. Yeah, I’d have to lay off the high heels for a while (oh, the horrors), but I figured it was worth it to nurse what I’m sure is just a sprain.

Clumsiness is Embarrassing

After a few hours of nursing my ankle, I decided it was time to start the fixins for the smallish, impromptu dinner party that I had decided to host that evening for a group of friends from church. So I started chopping away at the veggies that I was going to grill. Little did I know how difficult it was to balance on one foot and wield a sharp knife all at the same time. In one particularly rocky moment, the knife slipped. Into me. Or rather, into my finger. This time a trip to the Med Center was unavoidable. Once there, the concerned nurse wanted to run x-rays. She called in another nurse for a second opinion. And just when I started panicking over the thought of a severed finger and a forever mangled hand, I remembered something. What’s bright red, liquidy, and the less-serious result of a prolonged state of clumsiness? Remember the Cha Cha Cherry from the night before? Yep, you guessed it. My face was about the same color when I realized that the nurse was mistaking the nail polish stains for blood stains. A little further inspection and we discovered the injury was really a very small cut that just needed some antibiotics and a band aid. A fairly simple treatment for a two hour stay in the Med Center. (No comment, here, about the IQ of two aforementioned nurses that could actually mistake nail polish for blood).

Now, this is the point where you’d think the story is probably over. But you’d be wrong, my friends.

Clumsiness Blinds You

If you thought that balancing on one foot and cutting vegetables is difficult, try balancing on one foot and cutting vegetables with one hand. Now there’s a feat. Somehow I managed. In fact, I felt quite proud of myself as I hobbled out to the grill to start cooking. I don’t remember it, but I apparently closed the screen door behind me. This normally wouldn’t have been a problem, but on this night, the closed door quickly became my only obstacle between me and a friendly (or maybe not-so-friendly) neighborhood skunk. I think I saw him before he saw me, but that’s all I needed before I started running for the door (as fast as my… foot… could carry me). Unfortunately, I didn’t see the door. Until I slammed into it. Up went the veggies. Up went the grill tongs. And down went Cat. The scene would have won the grand prize on America’s Funniest Home Videos, that’s for sure.

I don’t remember how I managed to get up and get in, but I do remember the skunk finding–and partaking in–the tasty treats I had left behind. He feasted on veggies that night. My friends and I? We ordered pizza.

Clumsiness Almost Always Strikes Again

It’s Monday now, and the knives are safely stored, my finger is still attached, the skunk is probably hibernating with a full tummy, and my ankle is throbbing only a little. Somehow I made it through the 48 hours in one piece, albeit barely. And while I hope that my little clumsy streak has come to an end, I’m also almost certain that there will be more stories to entertain you with in the future. Stay tuned.