College Avenue Klutz

I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but at some point in my life I became a klutz. I don't remember being klutzy as a child. Although maybe the broken arm I suffered while running around the Awana circle should have been my first clue.

I drop things. I spill things. I knock over grocery store displays. I bump into my own furniture. I trip over my own feet. At least once a week I accidentally smear mascara all over my eyelids while applying my make-up.

This phenomenon first became evident to my husband during the first year of our marriage. In an homage to our first address, he began affectionately referring to me as the College Avenue Klutz. A name I'm constantly living up to, no matter how hard I try to be graceful.

We no longer live on College Avenue, but the klutz curse followed me to our new home. And for the past several months our carpet has been offering up a testimony of my klutz-i-ness. In the form of a giant brown stain - the result of a large cup full of soda launching from my hand into a huge, splattery, spectacular mess.

And so, finally, on Wednesday we had our carpets cleaned. We moved every piece of furniture out of the living room - smushing it into the patio, the kitchen, the bathroom. It was a hassle to be sure. And the cost didn't exactly fit into our budget. But, oh the clean carpet was glorious!

It was like walking into a brand new home. The pristine, perfect carpet made everything else look a little bit nicer. Honestly, I spent several minutes just staring at my carpet in sheer and utter awe. It was a thing of beauty.

This afternoon, less than 48 hours after the great carpet cleansing of 2007, I spilled another cup of soda.

The klutz curse lives!

Oh, and I'm no longer allowed to drink soda.