My Klutzy Life

Maybe it's because I don't wear shoes in the house. Maybe it's because I don't watch where I'm going. Maybe it's because my bed frame was constructed by a sadist. Maybe I'm just accident prone. Whatever the reason, I keep crashing into my bed.

It can happen during broad daylight or darkest night. I can be fully awake or half asleep. I can be actively engaged with the bed while making it or merely passing by. Luckily, the bed frame doesn't come up to the level of my head or I'd be a goner by now.

One of my worst mishaps occurred a few weeks ago. I was turning the corner at the foot of the bed on my way to tucking in the blanket, when I stubbed my bare toe against the frame so hard that I thought I'd broken it. I writhed in agony for several minutes, then moaned and groaned for a while longer. My toe swelled slightly and turned a little blue, so I iced it and hoped for the best. I attempted to gain E.'s sympathy, but he was curiously unmoved.

After a couple of days, I made a full recovery. Nothing had been seriously wounded, except my self-image. Where was the agile woman I'd always longed to be? Why could I not glide gracefully around the bed instead of barreling clumsily into it?

After that incident, I became more careful. I gave a wide berth to the bed whenever I walked past it. Eventually, I believed that my efforts were paying off. I felt more sure-footed. I even fancied that I was on my way to becoming less of a klutz. It was as if my toes had developed a sixth sense about the location of the bed frame and could do a dainty side step to avoid it every time.

So, the other night when I got out of bed to get a drink of water, I felt prepared. Although it was dark, my mind automatically registered the location of the bed frame and my toes effortlessly moved in a way designed to avoid it. But my legs, alas, did not follow. The next thing I knew, I'd kneecapped myself on the bed frame. I cried out in pain, then moaned and groaned (and cursed) for a while, waking E. up in the process, but again earning little sympathy.

How is it possible, you might ask, to be far enough away from the bed frame with one's toes, yet whack into it with one's knees? An excellent question. I'm still working on the answer. For now, I've just accepted that it's all part of my klutzy life.