I am someone that doesn't like to do anything halfway, if I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it all the way (this statement is actually not very true. Typically I take great delight in partially doing things and then leaving them, but for the sake of my storytelling, let's imagine the initial statement is true). So, if I am going to have a clumsy moment, it isn't going to be a simple trip and quick recovery, it is going to be a stumble and then a plunging to the ground in the middle of a crowded mall.
A real life example for you: I am currently going through a puzzle obsession stage. I just want to sit around and do puzzles all day, but since I don't have any of time for something like this, I have to work on it at 11 pm every night. Something about doing a puzzle gives me a rare sense of accomplishment, which is very important as a mother of two; I feel like I am constantly doing the same thing (cleaning up, washing dishes, disciplining) but somehow nothing ever gets done. The difficulty with doing a puzzle in a tiny house full of cats and grabby kids' hands is that there is no real place to store your work. But then miraculously, this week, I found the one place in this entire house where my puzzle-in-process can be safe. I can slide my giant puzzle board (seriously giant) on top of our stackable washer/dryer (but then if I do laundry things tend to shift and there are more problems there). Today, while I was replacing the giant board, with the puzzle contents on top, in the hiding place, I somehow lost my grip and the bucket, which was balanced on the board, containing all the puzzle pieces (don't ask me why all the pieces were in an ice cream bucket, just know that I am nuts and have odd reasoning for most of what I do) gained momentum and flew off the board and exploded all over the kitchen (yes, our laundry is in the kitchen - we're poor and trashy). In keeping with my faux-mentality, if I was going to make a mess, I wasn't going halfway. All at once, like in a movie, 1,000 tiny pieces flew up in the air, rained down all over me and scattered to every corner of my kitchen. And if I was going to exclaim something in response to the disaster, I wasn't going to be satisfied with a mere "Doggoneit!", I let the expletives fly (my children were peacefully sleeping). Immediately after, the two dumb cats I live with came in and started knocking the pieces around and making an even bigger mess.
Twenty minutes later, the mess was cleaned up (though I have found a few rogue pieces here and there since) and order was once again restored to the Clinton home. So rather than feeling a sense of accomplishment today, I have once again the feeling of clumsy-poopishness.
What's that? Something ridiculous happened to Lily again? What's new?
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