A Breakdown of Sorts

Man, I wish I could breakdance.


I've thought about letting Chloe take a dance class next spring, after we file our taxes. Or gymnastics. Something. I would love for her to have some coordination and grace.

I have NONE.

No rythym, no grace, and I coudn't walk a straight painted line on the road to save my life. If I were pulled over for a sobriety test, and I was sober, I would still fail. I'm the only person I know who falls UP the steps. (No, I take that back. My mother is just as bad. I must get it from her.) I'm the only one who undresses to get a shower, and starts counting all the new bruises I have and "WHEREVER DID THEY COME FROM??" may slip from my lips a few times as I go.

We have an artificial tree. As I was putting it together, I sliced my finger open like a papercut from one of the "needles". WHO does that?

Me.

I'm stringing the lights, and starting to feel jolly, and WHO falls into the tree, and tumbles into a mess of twisted metal and paper sharp "needles"?

Me.

Who goes to get into the shower today, and slips, AND slides, and manages to barely hang on to dear life on  the handicap railing, so thoughtfully installed by the nice lady's son who USED to live here? I think we know the answer to that, and no, it wasn't Chuck. (Although he did "ski" down the carpeted stairs of our old apartment once, to show me how slippery his slippers were, and may or may not have ended up sliding down the stairs on his back, while ripping the railing straight out of the wall.)

Right now, I'm nursing a thumbnail that has torn away from my thumb. I did it while washing dishes, but I'm not sure how.

I would like Chloe to take part in some classes, so that she doesn't end up like me. So far, it looks like she'll be OK. Maybe Ness got the magic genes, and we should avoid football, the sport he is SO excited to try once he gets old enough.

Oh! And you know, in the short time it took for me to get my shower, Ness found some bubblegum, chewed it, and rubbed it into 5 different spots of this ugly, shaggy pink carpet. It was a NIGHTMARE to clean out. I had to watch where I sprayed the carpet cleaner.

After all, I'm the only person I know who's ever shot a raw chunk of potato in my open eye.

He looks like a badass, because he IS.