So, I'm having one of those weeks, and I thought I'd document it, to provide a snapshot into the Laurel and Hardy film that is my life sometimes. Though some might disagree, I'm quite dextrous much of the time, but a goodly portion of my life is spent displaying a spectacular lack of coordination.
Monday: Rushed home from work to change for end of semester drinks at the university where I do some tutoring part-time, only to find that my key wouldn't go in the lock - the tumblers had collapsed. Joy. Rush to reception to talk to my boss, who kindly offered to sort it for my so I could go to the drinks (he's a man who appreciates the value of a good drink).
Tuesday: Last night, I had check my schedule and noted my meetings with my students I'm supervising started at 10:30, so I set my alarm for nine. I woke up early was catching up on emails and texts on my phone when I decided to double-check my meeting times for today. First meeting at 8:35. Look at the clock. 8:10.
OH MY STARS.
I frantically dressed and attempted to make my hair look less bed-head-y, threw some shake powder in my travel coffee mug as an impromptu breakfast, threw that, my laptop, phone, cords and notes into my bag, realised I'd left the tap open on the cup lid, cursed at all the powder now strewn through the bag, closed the lid, ran out the door, made it to work with a minute to spare, if slightly out of breath. Then my first student forgot his meeting so I had to chase him down, thus negating all that effort to be on time.
During a break, I found the time to empty my bag of possessions, shake out the powder, wiped down my travel pack of emergency wet wipes, then used the last wipe in the pack to clean the powder out of the corners of my Kindle, the irony of the last two not lost on me. Then, once it was all clean and dry, I knocked my water bottle over and had to start the process all over again.
Then, in the staff room, I discovered some delightful individual had stolen my mug.
DEATH TO THE MUGSTEALERS.
A friend took pity on me and lent me a mug, thus protecting the world from me in caffeine withdrawal.
In the evening, I went to see Judge Dredd with a friend. Awesome film, by the way, but definitely not for the faint of heart. In the bathroom before the movie, I dropped my brand new phone, somehow managing to dent the metal edge DESPITE having a case on it...
Wednesday: Managed to make it through the morning accident-free, then was eating my wrap at lunch with the boarders when the bottom of the paper bag it was in gave way and deposited a goodly amount of hot mayonnaise and tomato juice on my chest. Burns plus public humiliation. Thanks. To their credit, the boys didn't pass comment. Dashed to my room to change, hurriedly unlocked the door...
Only to realise that it wasn't my room. I moved into the apartment upstairs nearly 3 months ago, yet somehow forgot that. Luckily the apartment's new occupant wasn't home, saving me that embarrassment at least.
Then, in the afternoon while collecting my laundry, I dropped my phone AGAIN, this time breaking the protective case, but fortunately doing no other damage. But NOOOOOOoooooooo, my new Game Boy case....
Nearly managed to set fire to myself in the evening. Matches and the like can hold all kinds of risks for such as me... maybe I should rethink my love of candles...
Thursday: I'm blaming sleep-deprivation after a late night for this, but decided I badly needed a coffee and set my Nespresso machine to go. Then realised when I glanced in its direction that I'd neglected to adjust the milk nozzle and the machine was now an island in a sea of frothy milk. I picked up the milk jug with a view to refilling it to finish making my coffee before cleaning up - priorities - but managed to knock the glass off the edge of the counter where it smashed, sending glass and coffee in an impressively-sized blast radius. It was one of those awesome Bodum double-walled glass mugs, so it made an interesting double-smash. Glass littered the floor between my bare feet and my shoes.
Dilemma.
It was at this moment my luck changed; there was a knock on the door which turned out to be the cleaner. She kindly insisted on cleaning up the mess, and even fetched my thongs (flip flops to the Americans) for me. Such a nice lady.
Went back to bed after that. Seemed the safest place for me.
Friday: Flooded the coffee machine with milk again. Seriously, when will I learn?!?! Found some of the glass missed in the clean up yesterday. With my foot. Managed to make it through the day otherwise accident-free. Even managed to make a strong show of steady hands at Friday Night Jenga at work.
Saturday: Crispy-fried in the sun at a festival. Idiot that I am. You'd think I'd remember by now that the sun is trying to kill me.
Sunday: DID THE FREAKING MILK THING AGAIN. Seriously considering testing for some kind of memory deficiency, perhaps early onset of Alzheimer's...
It continues, but at least I've learned how to properly operate my coffee machine... until next time, anyway.
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