Saturday, April 9, 2011


   At work yesterday, as I was slipping out of my chair to go to lunch, I hit my hip on a corner of my desk. When I bent over to check out the damage, I hit my head on - brace yourself - the plastic straw of the tumbler I recently bought in an effort to not spill things quite so often. (Seriously there is still a two inch red mark on my forehead; it wasn't gross at all trying to clean the straw of the skin cells it scraped off of my face).

A mere hour later (returning from lunch) I dropped something and squatted down to get it. Wouldn't you know it, I managed to hit the back of head on the underside of the desk - so hard in fact that a coworker brought me a small bag of ice to put on the newest injury.

((It might be too much to include here that as soon as I sat back in my chair I hit my ankle on the nearby bookcase, flipping the middle shelf and sending the contents flying... ))

My clumsiness is probably hereditary (yes, if you must know, I googled it). My father is a smooth talker but ummm, he can't exactly walk the walk (sorry Daddy!). For real tho, the man has had way more creative injuries than I can attempt to count. And my son... well, for now we'll just say he's an active little boy and accidents are expected.

I've been following in my father's stumbling footsteps for quite a while now, now that I think about it. Back in middle school I was playing second base for my softball team when a grounder hit a rock, popped up and hit me in the face - giving me two black eyes, a broken nose and leaving the imprint of the ball's stitches on my chin. (My dad and stepmom made me go to school the next day - thanks a lot!)

Before that, I was climbing on my cousin's back trying to reach the pears in our neighbor's tree when i fell and fractured my arm - on my cousin's face. Side note: while my arm was still in a sling, I further injured it by using it to jumprope (because that's perfectly logical).

Oh, oh, oh! There was also the time I was plugging in my laptop and then backed into the corner of the counter, causing a stream of blood to flow from my lower back right down into my... well, I'm sure you can figure it out (it rhymes with back). And once, I dropped a chopstick that stabbed me between the toes, making me trip and hit my head on the nearby doorframe. (All this while perfectly sober, mind you.)

My typical response is to laugh - I think I've actually forgotten how to cry about pain. Usually there are only tears after I've giggled so hard I can't breath (and yes, if you fall, I'll laugh then too). Is this a normal or healthy reaction? Hell if I know. Maybe I'm a freak - my mother tells me that I never cried about shots as a baby/kid. I tend to respond that way to emotional pain too - it's inappropriate, maybe, but it's me.

Which brings to me to my point. We're all unique individuals - none of us are good at everything (such as walking without causing bodily harm) but all of us are good at something. When you're the one that's successful, how about being generous and kind to those who are struggling in that area instead of being prideful and harsh?

Hmmmm, let me put it like this: If you're gracefull (sic), share the wealth and show some grace to those who aren't.
***Because if you don't, sure enough, you can count on karma to trip your selfish ass... ;)***