Things that hurt, pt. 1, Life in general

Last weekend, the president of the music fraternity that boyfriend is in mentioned clumsiness. He said something to the effect of, "I can't imagine how it would feel to be a clumsy person. Like, you never know when you're gonna trip and all of a sudden face plant." 

Let me tell you, prez, it is not a good feeling. At least, I don't enjoy it.

I feel like I have a clumsiness disorder. It's not diagnosed or anything, but nonetheless I suffer from it. Is that a thing? Clumsiness disorder? I'ma go with yes, just judging from my own life.

So I will introduce you to the life of one who is clumsy, an account based on accidents. The first part will be injuries in my general life and the second part will be about my injuries received before/during performances. I hurt myself all the time, but it happens increasingly when I have to be on stage. 

May 2, 2012, 7:04 p.m. (Dates and times are approximate)

I have these hangers that hang on themselves so that you can create a sort of vertical column of shirts (or pants or whatever). They are pretty convenient, really. I quite liked them until yesterday when they ATTACKED ME. I was pulling the bottom one off and the one above it came along with it, even though that is not what I wanted, and made a friggin beeline for the cuticle/upper toenail of my next-to-smallest toe on my left side. It hurt SO. BAD. Like, surprisingly bad. I tell you what, I have had sooooo many foot injuries, but this one was definitely in the top five. But only after: 1. A horse stepping on my foot and breaking it, 2. Breaking the same foot within the month by getting it caught between a pedal and the body of a stationary bike, 3. Dropping a cinderblock on my foot (more on this in pt. 2), and 4. Breaking my toe via getting it caught under a door, not realizing it, and dragging it underneath said door whilst attempting to continue walking. 

May 2, 2012, 12:27 p.m. Damn, I guess this was an unlucky day.

Made chicken and dumplings. Carried it back to my chair without incident. Sat down in chair. Put computer on lap to watch YouTube or whatever while I ate. Turned on video. Somehow dumpling sauce spilled on my left hand. Hurt like a bitch. So I switched the food container to my right hand and went to lick it off my left hand. Mission partially completed when dumpling sauce spilled on my right hand. As both hands were in pain at this point, my autonomic nerves kicked in and I dropped the chicken and dumplings. The sauce spilled all over my pants and legs, further burning me, and also got into the trackpad on my macbook. So it doesn't click anymore. Let's review: burn left hand, burn right hand, burn legs, stain pants, break laptop. Damn, I'm good. Must be some kind of record.

Every day all the freaking time.

My desk chair. Boyfriend's desk chair. Suitemates' desk chairs. They all hate me and want me to die. They are slowly whittling away at my livelihood by tripping me up and giving me bruises everywhere. Seriously, I find bruises on myself all the time, and most of the time I don't know where they came from. I would guess that well more than half are the result of those stupid, evil, cad desk chairs. 

God's Nightgown. 

To be continued....

(PS: Send your guest blog to ket0015@auburn.edu. Looking forward to having a second one!)

(PPS: I suppose the parentheses aren't really necessary. Whatever. Tumblr: generalmelon.tumblr.com. Twitter: @ktsalt.)