Jeremy often expresses disbelief at the fact that I used to take dance and acrobatics classes when I was a kid.  He is especially disbelieving when I tell him I was actually pretty good.  Not great or anything, but I could do some pretty tricky stuff.  He finds these claims hard to believe because he says I am sort of clumsy and possibly a tiny bit accident prone.  Normally I would disagree with him and just say that when it comes to activities like walking or climbing stairs I tend to be a little bit unlucky.

That sprained ankle in Amalfi could have happened to anyone, same goes for that bicycle accident in Chicago.  And that sprained ankle in Chicago wasn’t my fault at all, it was my friend Poindexter’s fault for distracting me while I was trying to walk down a dark footpath.  That time I fell off the snow bank in Detroit was just because I was wearing new boots and wasn’t used to length of the toe, yes, that’s exactly what it was. 

This weekend, though, I kind of played into the normally unfair classification of myself as clumsy.  We were leaving a party at around 2 AM Saturday night / Sunday morning.  I had perhaps had a few bottles of beer.  Just a few, not enough to impair my abilities, just enough to raise the spirits, you understand.  Somehow, though, my toes caught on something, a paving tile maybe, a stick, perhaps a snail.  And I went flying face first toward the pavement.  Luckily, my face avoided connection with the pavement.  Unluckily, my hands did not and I ended up with a very ground up right palm and a somewhat less ground up left one.  Also a slightly twisted ankle. 

Then I got to walk all the way home looking like I had a bad case of stigmata.  And a bit of a limp.  Oh, and a less than sympathetic husband who may need a refresher course in how to be nicer to a grumpy and wounded wife.  That said, Jeremy helped me clean and dress my hands when we got home.  they’re feeling a little better today although they still look pretty gross (really gross, actually) so I have them covered up with big fat plasters and am trying to avoid things like child lock caps and sticky doors.

Perhaps I should look into taking ballet classes again, maybe that would give me back some of my former poise and grace?  Or maybe it would just open me up to more potential for injury and embarrassment?  Probably the latter.  I’ll stick with yoga in my closed off front room for now.  There’s less chance of either of those happening this way.



Filed under dorking it up

2 responses to “Grace

  1. LOL @ “a bad case of stigmata.” Not laughing at your pain, or your clumsiness. Well, maybe a bit at your clumsiness. Heal quick!

    • carolynintheuk

      Do you think the saints who exhibited stigmata were maybe just really clumsy and trying to think up a good excuse for it? Like, oh no I wasn’t nipping into the communion wine, I’m actually VERY holy.

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