In Which A Nerd Confesses

Sitting uneasily propped up in bed, trying to type/breath/and groan at the same time, I feel a need to confess something. Just in case a few of you have failed to pick up on it in the last few months.

I, your natural nerd.... am something of a klutz.

I spent my childhood reassuring well meaning social workers that no, in fact my parents didn't beat me - daily bruises notwithstanding. It took me getting distracted in front of one women and opening a door into my face (blacking my eye and giving myself a nosebleed) to make her realize that the only person doing me any damage was myself.

Since reaching my 20's I've been given more cards for women's shelters/ divorce attorneys / and self-defense classes then all of the Lifetime Movie main characters combined.

My husband, the Prime Geek, married me and honestly thought he would be able to imbue me with a little of his own grace and suavity. Sadly, the force is far stronger in this one... and his own graceful star is beginning to look a bit tarnished. (Our wedding night was the first moment he came face to face with this possibility. My mother had bought us black satin sheets as a romantic/silly gift and he ended up slamming himself headfirst into the opposite wall after skittering across them when he attempted a sensual slide.)

I've broken bones that I hadn't realized I had, ripped/torn/and slashed most of the muscles and tendons keeping my bits together, and spent a whole lot of my life wondering if I should put down "bruised" as my skin tone.

I have found the more naturally I eat, the less chemicals I keep around the house, and the more time I spend wandering outside - the faster I heal up... getting me to my next pratfall all the faster. So my trials and tries are a kind of Good News/ Bad News scenarios.

This time? The furry troublemakers attempts to kill me dang well nearly succeeded, with me heading down the stairs head first. The noggin is fine, but the chiropractor is muttering something about "popped" ribs and possible cracks. Me? I'm just muttering "Owe." A lot. A whole lot. Okay... there may well be some profanity squeaking out as well.

The part that has me banging my head against a wall? I have an interview coming up this weekend regarding an option to start doing this whole writing thing as a proper real "grownup" job and I've been a tad stressed out over it. Couldn't write, couldn't sew, didn't know what to do with myself.

This.... is not the distraction I had in mind. Next time I yell out to the universe that I need something to keep my mind occupied, I'm darn well specifying PLEASANT time wasters.

Owe.




One thing this has accomplished is make me all the more certain that when the time comes for the PG and I to build our green dream home - there will be NO RUDDY STAIRS!