Little things that remind me I’m a Klutz

There’s always a little piece of your personality that follows you to adulthood, haunting you at every turn or simply popping up after you’ve thought you passed that point of your life. As a little kid, there’s always that one trait you’re known for, that one characteristic that has a habit of becoming you. Some are known for their charisma, some for their wit, but me? I was known for being a Klutz.

My mom would always tell me tales of my klutzy endeavors- of that time I tripped over a piece of fuzz in the doctor’s office, or of the times during Sunday school where I would randomly fall out of my chair. I wasn’t ashamed of my clumsy nature. It was something that I’ve always known and was a defining part of my character. As I grew and matured, the clumsy aspect of my personality silently faded away until I was nearly normal.

My klutzy half never fully escaped me- it’s clear to me now that it has just been waiting in the shadows for me to trip over my own feet. Little instances in my life, caused by my excessive clumsiness peaking through the cracks of my composure, are a shocking reminder that I am still and will always be a Klutz.

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Coffee

Sometimes I like to try to be productive, and the only way I can manage to get any work done is with the help of copious amounts of caffeine coursing through my system. After setting up my work space with my computer on my lap and snack foods on a TV tray to my left, I immediately proceed to spill my freshly poured coffee all over the keyboard of my expensive laptop. The coffee wasn’t too hot, nor was it slippery; my hand just decided that holding cups was lame.

Of course, I panicked and ran into the kitchen, draping as much paper towels around me as I could without qualifying as a mummified corpse. After soaking up all of the beverage that I could see and saving my precious from a disastrous state of brokenness, I once again sat down to work, allowing my heart rate to calm to an acceptable rate. After recovering my mental state and that of my computer, I reach for my mug- only for it to once again spill, this time all over my snack tray.

It was at this point that I found myself amazed at my surprising stupidity. I was so shocked by my clumsiness that I just sat there for awhile, mesmerized by the dark liquid slowly oozing onto my carpet below. My accident-prone life flashed before my eyes like a tribute to my Klutzy endeavors, and I was forced to watch to the end before I could clean up the mess I made, again.

Don’t Drop The Phone

Nothing screams “Klutz” like throwing your phone halfway across the room. There’s no clue warning of this occurrence, only the sudden exclamation of surprise as the phone tumbles across the room as if in an Old Western movie. My clumsiness seems to center around the functioning capability of my hands, or rather the lack of. My hands are as careless and wobbly as a newborn fawn, and it’s getting a bit ridiculous. I could be just minding my own business and reading fanfiction, when suddenly my phone thinks it’s Superman, flying across my living room and fighting crimes.

Nothing is more embarrassing than having a phone that thinks it’s Superman. The walk of shame to retrieve the flung cell phone is always a painful process, accentuated by the reminder that there is no escape for being a Klutz.

Poles Are Not Your Friend

While spilling your coffee and having a spastic cell phone certainly house their own level of embarrassment, there is nothing that beats the shame that follows from walking into a pole. I can’t remember a specific time when I have done this, but I know I must have, since every time I come near a pole or other object ejecting from the floor I have to tell myself not to walk into it. Your mind is a wonderful warning system, but to Klutz, the warnings are also a painful reminder of previous instances of shame. Walking into objects tend to stun the Klutz, which usually follows a hopeless attempt to brush it off and act like it never happened. Calmly walking away from the pole while continuing whatever conversation or action that had distracted you in the first place does not erase the shame of what occurred, nor does it erase it from the minds of anyone who saw it in the immediate vicinity. At least next time, you’ll know to watch out for the pole. However, if you’re a mega Klutz like me, that’s no guarantee that it won’t happen it again. In fact, you should probably just invest in a helmet.

There is no escaping the firm grasp of clumsiness. Being a Klutz is a lifetime responsibility; live with it.


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