Sometimes I think my clumsiness makes me who I am. It teaches me patience and acceptance of life’s dorky happenings.
Example?
Last night I opened a 2 liter on my bed. I didn’t take into consideration the build-up of foam and as I poured (you guessed it) my cup runneth over
All….Over.
My. Bed.
Then, to ensure my fate was sealed destiny added an extra bit. I set the bottle down on the nightstand in a panic to get a towel for said bed, and ended up knocking that bottle over into the floor.
Can I just sigh really loud? In these situations I have two choices generally. Get really upset and invent new curse words (which I totally admit to doing on occasion) or just roll my eyes and consider the many ways I am not graceful.
Me. This is me…and for some reason this is actually reassuring. It reminds me that no matter what I am always just me. Just me who knows darn well I make mistakes like everyone else. Just me who is just fine, even if she does have to wash her entire bed at 2 am.
Yeah. Just me.
I like me, dorky klutz and all.
A Soft Place to Rest 
And, inevitably patience vanishes, at precisely the perfect moment, to remind me how perfectly flawed I am.
The secret is in the “Perfectly flawed” part. 🙂