klutzy

after lunch last friday, i went to the tray return area, scraped off my food, and placed my plate on top of a huge pile of other plates. of course, this is me we're talking about, so even the simplest acts end in disaster. as soon as my plate touched the stack, i could feel the plates below shifting, and it was like watching a car crash happen in slow motion. half of the plates went tumbling to the floor, and several shattered, leaving a spray of leftover pizza crust, chicken masala, and sour cream all over the carpet. needless to say, i felt pretty stupid.

still, it's rare that an entire day goes by without me feeling like a complete ass at least once. in college, i tripped at least three times every day, almost without fail. it was those damn stone walkways. i've fallen up stairs (on several occasions), walked into poles while reading, and once, in london, i gave my mom a hug in a store and made her fall, knocking down three of those standing clothes racks in the process. man, those suckers fell like dominos.

the really weird part about all of this is that when i was little, my mom tried to convince me that i was actually really graceful. i'm not sure where she got that notion, but she used to say things like, "if you hadn't quit ice skating/ballet/tap/modern dance, you could have been really good. you're so graceful."

lies. all lies.