I’ve got a bone to pick with you Deb. I have been klutz and accident free for quite a while, until you asked me that question. Today – a few short hours after I posted the answers to your questions I executed a feat that would put all other feats to shame. But now I get ahead of myself, let me back up a few hours….
I finished writing my blog and got the kids ready to go out and run some errands, post office, bank, you know the kind. The rain had finally let up and the sun was out and I was feeling particularly cheery. I was thinking about lunch and dinner and decided not to eat my leftovers for lunch, but save them for dinner so there would be enough for the whole family – and save me time and cooking. I grabbed a yummy bag of pasta from the frozen aisle. I usually don’t do this but it was on sale at a ridiculously cheap price and it had shrimp in it – mmmmm. I figured it would make a decent little lunch.
I got home, fed the children and sent them off to quiet time while I straightened up the kitchen some, put things away, and cooked up my little bag of pasta. It smelled so devine and the shrimp called to me with their scintillating scents, begging to be eaten. I poured myself a large (really large) glass of juice that I had given the kids (I know, it really should have been water, shame on me) and, resisting the urge to pop one of the shrimp in my mouth right then, dumped it on my plate. With plate and book in one hand and giant juice filled cup in other hand I began to head into the family room.
I was in the process of trying to decide if I would watch a re-run of Matlock while I ate lunch or if I would work on my writing when I hit the patch of water on the floor. Unbeknownst to me one of the children had spilled water this morning. I was suddenly skidding across the remainder of the kitchen floor – the sudden jolt sending juice rushing over the edge of the cup in a wave onto our wood stove as I sailed past on my right foot – fighting for balance, and trying to save my food.
My left foot hit the carpet leading into the family room and twisted at the sudden jolt of traction. While my feet stopped suddenly I found that my upper body did not have any such resistance. I was now launched on my final flight. Just ahead I saw the plastic fence (our attempt to quarentine Jacob, though it really doesn’t do much good anymore) rappidly rushing up to meet my legs. I plowed it down like the big bad wolf puffing away the house of straw. In horror I watched my plate of beloved shrimpy pasta fly free and felt the giant cup of juice beginning to sail through the air. With a resounding crash and postludial “Oomph!” I landed, skidding across the carpet on my stomach through my food, my arms out stretched before me. I suddenly had an insane urge to scream “SUPERMAN!!!” as I surged across the floor. I had juice dripping down the side of my head and was wearing pretty pasta, sauce and shrimp across my t-shirt. The juice was kind enough to spray so well as it flipped and flew through the air that I found droplets running down the window all the way across the room, and I might be finding escaped shrimp for the next few days in the oddest places. The only comment I could manage to say to myself as I eyed the damage was, “Well, that hurt, I needed to clean the carpet anyway.” But I must say, I lamented the loss of my pasta as I scooped it into the garbage – unsalvagable unless you care for pasta a la dog hair.
So left-overs for lunch, and left-overs for dinner, and a carpet cleaner rental this evening.
And borrowing, and slightly altering a line from a much earlier post, I leave with you my final thoughts on the afore mentioned events of this (not so splendid) afternoon:
“Oh my! How Juice, Pasta, and Goofy can fly!”