Always an adventure

My sister calls me Inspector Clouseau because my clumsiness often leaves a trail of near-miss-disasters in my wake. For example, I might burn my hand taking cookies out of the oven at her house. I might yell and drop the cookie sheet on the counter. The spoons might clatter out of the mixing bowl onto the floor, and I might bend over to pick them up, hitting my head on the hot cookie sheet when I stand up, sending the cookies flying across her kitchen, and my sister catching the cartwheeling cookie sheet with a hot pad as it crashes off the counter. She will laugh and say, “It might be time for you to take a break, Inspector.”
I have a great sister.
This clumsiness works out well for the kids–they can never make a bigger mess than I do. In fact, it is me who spills down the front of my shirts, breaks glasses when I wash them, accidentally throws out the family’s passports…But I’m working on mindfulness. In the meantime, I cherish the people who love me in spite of the spilled drinks in their laps and missed planes because I mis-read the tickets. Pain in the ass, I know, but at least it’s always an adventure.