LIKE CHANDLER BING, I have a reputation as a ‘dropper’ – something that left me absolutely fecking reeling when it was first disclosed because I actually pride myself on my cat-life reflexes.
No seriously, I have actually delivered the term ‘quick like a cat’ with a smug grin on more than one occasion.
I know yeah, I’m not mad on me either.
It was then I was told that the only reason I have these so-called ‘cat-like reflexes’ is because I drop absolutely everything I come in contact with, and on the law of averages, it’s only logical I save at least some of them.
Most people know if they’re a bit of a klutz and tend to tread carefully, but it took me a lifetime to really figure it out.
And on top of being clumsy, here are just some of the other clues I (bizarrely) missed along the away, but which helped others identify me as an utter clown.
1. I have absolutely no spatial awareness.
My hips are permanently covered in bruises because I regularly underestimate the distance between my body and the kitchen counter, door frame, bookcase; take your pick.
Like most normal-functioning humans, I’ll position myself upon approach so as not to make contact with the object ahead, and yet nine times out of 10, I will graze off it at best, and knock myself out, at worst.
I dropped half an orange on my toe this morning. It was surprisingly painful. Then I banged my head on the wall #nospatialawareness
— Squeaky the Pin (@Squeaky_the_pin) September 16, 2010
2. I spend at least five minutes a day untangling myself from door handles.
Whether it’s the strap of my bag or the belt loop of my jeans, I have to take time out of my day – every single day - to untangle myself from the door handle I’ve become stuck to.
It largely comes down to spatial awareness (shocker, I know) and means I can often be found awkwardly standing in doorways, muttering profanities to myself, and asking for assistance if particularly problematic.
I dropped books on my face today at work. It's a good thing no one was watching, my glasses cover the cut on my nose, and that I can laugh at myself #Klutz #ProbablyLookedHilarious
— Angela Dueck (@tarangela21) June 5, 2018
3. My shirts unbutton themselves throughout the day.
I have yet to make it through a day in a button-down shirt without inadvertently flashing my bra to every poor unfortunate around me.
I don’t know why it happens, and I wouldn’t even be able to hazard a guess as to how often, but suffice to say, I regularly glance down and find myself staring my bogey old bras in the eye.
And unsurprisingly, in my haste to preserve what’s left of my dignity, I miss the sequence of buttons and don’t match the correct hole with the correct button, further cementing my rep as a gobshite.
Today's outfit has been brought to you by 4 safety pins and a prayer. #accidentalFlashing
— Rebecca Foat (@13eccaFoat) July 7, 2010
4. I am given special delph in some people’s homes.
Those closest to me have forbidden me from using certain glasses in their home because, frankly, they know me well.
And while I don’t tend to drop glasses as often as I drop my phone, the remote control or the book I’m holding, the fear is always lurking.
So, it’s just easier to slide me a bog-standard mug than entrust me with a recent wedding present.
5. I have literally broken things while trying to clean them.
On one occasion I pulled down an entire curtain pole while trying to wash around the window sill… and it wasn’t even my house.
On another occasion, in an attempt to air out a room, I opened all the windows and bore witness to the greatest smashing of a door frame the world has ever seen. When I say smithereens, I mean smithereens.
I have also dusted an entire house with insect repellent.
6. I punched myself clean in the face changing my bedsheets.
I don’t know how much more I can elaborate on this except to say I watched my own fist sail through the air directly into my own face, and I was unable to stop it.
And, well, I punched myself straight in the face.
7. I accidentally walk up people’s legs.
You know those friends who invade your personal space when you’re walking alongside them? That’s me.
I will – unbeknownst to myself, obviously – get closer and closer until you’re forced to walk on the road or tell me to cop the f**k on and stop walking up your leg.
FYI though, I’ll never stop.
