Don't let me get me
Although I don't especially like Pink, I totally agree with her at this moment: I'm a hazard to myself.
And not just psychologically, now that I think of it. Also physically. I've always been the sort of person who bumps against, stumbles into, trips on, slips on, bangs her head against, and barks her shin against literally everything. If I'm holding something, chances are I'll drop it. If it happens to be remotely liquid, probability rises by 30%, and I'll spill it all over myself, or over the frowning stranger beside me. If I'm in a room with 20 people, and in said room there's something that's likely to fall, the object will fall on my head. If, on the other hand, in said room there are 30 good chairs and 1 that's ready to collapse, chances are I will pick that one to sit on and fall on my ass. If there's one stone in a beanpot for 20 people, I'll be the one who breaks a tooth with it. I'm also the kind of person who will step on your toes, kick you, poke your eye, push you, all by mistake. I've fallen down all the stairs I've ever met in my life, at one point or another. The one notable exception was the stairs to our old apartment (which was lucky, because our apartmente was in the 5th story).
To sum it up, I'm about as graceful as a cow. Back when I was single, I knew my chances were much better if I stayed sitting or standing, because if I attempted THE walk, I'd probably end up laying in a puddle of beer. With my skirt up and showing a badly mantained bikini line.
Belendor is afraid of me. Sometimes it puts me out to watch him crouching like a catcher when I manouver in the supermarket in hopes of catching whatever I happen to knock down. It puts me out, but I also have to admit he's right to do so. And it still puts me out that he doesn't ever drop anything down. Why does he have to be so damn graceful? I am the woman for crying out loud. I think he's afraid that, when we have children, I'll drop them. I must admit also that I share that fear.
Besides the physical part, there's something wrong with my head too. Not even a week ago, I merrily dumped the tv remote into the washing maching along with the sheets. It was ruined. Since I arrived to this apartment, I've managed to break the bathroom's faucet, blow up two fuses, as well as countless lightbulbs, and break the hardwood floor. Yeah, that's possible. And I have also dutily landed on my ass about two times.
I constantly go to the market to get an specific item, say butter, and I constantly come back loaded with every sorts of goods, except the godloved butter. And this happens to me almost every single time I go to the supermarket. If I happen to discipline enough to make an item list, I unvariably lose it along the way. Not one of them has ever travelled all the way to the market with me. If I don't lose it, I generally forget it on top of the kitchen counter.
Yeah, she's definetely college material, she is....
Although I don't especially like Pink, I totally agree with her at this moment: I'm a hazard to myself.
And not just psychologically, now that I think of it. Also physically. I've always been the sort of person who bumps against, stumbles into, trips on, slips on, bangs her head against, and barks her shin against literally everything. If I'm holding something, chances are I'll drop it. If it happens to be remotely liquid, probability rises by 30%, and I'll spill it all over myself, or over the frowning stranger beside me. If I'm in a room with 20 people, and in said room there's something that's likely to fall, the object will fall on my head. If, on the other hand, in said room there are 30 good chairs and 1 that's ready to collapse, chances are I will pick that one to sit on and fall on my ass. If there's one stone in a beanpot for 20 people, I'll be the one who breaks a tooth with it. I'm also the kind of person who will step on your toes, kick you, poke your eye, push you, all by mistake. I've fallen down all the stairs I've ever met in my life, at one point or another. The one notable exception was the stairs to our old apartment (which was lucky, because our apartmente was in the 5th story).
To sum it up, I'm about as graceful as a cow. Back when I was single, I knew my chances were much better if I stayed sitting or standing, because if I attempted THE walk, I'd probably end up laying in a puddle of beer. With my skirt up and showing a badly mantained bikini line.
Belendor is afraid of me. Sometimes it puts me out to watch him crouching like a catcher when I manouver in the supermarket in hopes of catching whatever I happen to knock down. It puts me out, but I also have to admit he's right to do so. And it still puts me out that he doesn't ever drop anything down. Why does he have to be so damn graceful? I am the woman for crying out loud. I think he's afraid that, when we have children, I'll drop them. I must admit also that I share that fear.
Besides the physical part, there's something wrong with my head too. Not even a week ago, I merrily dumped the tv remote into the washing maching along with the sheets. It was ruined. Since I arrived to this apartment, I've managed to break the bathroom's faucet, blow up two fuses, as well as countless lightbulbs, and break the hardwood floor. Yeah, that's possible. And I have also dutily landed on my ass about two times.
I constantly go to the market to get an specific item, say butter, and I constantly come back loaded with every sorts of goods, except the godloved butter. And this happens to me almost every single time I go to the supermarket. If I happen to discipline enough to make an item list, I unvariably lose it along the way. Not one of them has ever travelled all the way to the market with me. If I don't lose it, I generally forget it on top of the kitchen counter.
Yeah, she's definetely college material, she is....
posted by gaby san at
4/21/2003 11:30:00 PM
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