I had that day.

So, I’m not known for my gracefulness. No one ever thinks about grace or elegance with my face in mind.

I really must have missed that day in girl training.

Because I trip on things that aren’t there. I stumble. I spill coffee on white shirts. I fall down the stairs at church. Wearing a dress. (I still have a sore spot on my left shin, by the way.) I find myself in the middle of awkward social situations often, surprised to find out I’m there and with no polite or graceful way to extricate myself.

Graceful. Yeah, that’s not me.

And Monday kind of proved it. I had brought my lunch, a wonderful frozen Santa Fe-style rice and beans dish I had to heat up in the vending/microwave room off the cafeteria in the building where I work. I was hungry and the food wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it was already paid for and it was food. Two points for the frozen dinner!

So I popped it in the microwave. I pulled the corner back to vent it. I let it cook for the allotted 3 minutes before stopping the microwave to stir it up. And when it was ready, I pulled it out, peeled off the plastic covering, and started to open the door to head out to the table where my friends were sitting, less than three steps away from the door I was now opening.

And I have NO idea what happened other than this: I dropped my food. The plastic dish splatted against the tile floor and sent waves of rice and beans everywhere. SPLASH ZONE! My friend helped me clean rice and beans and cheese off the floor, the door and anything else in the near vicinity. I had to clean food off my legs and wait for it, my big toe.

It was gross. And even if a portion of the meal stayed in the dish, I wasn’t eating it now. So I had to bum money off my friends (mine was upstairs in my office) and go buy something to eat.

Only later did someone point out that I was covered in Smart One® splatters, too.

Ah, the joy of walking around covered in minute splatters of rice and beans all day long.

And to make the day more enjoyable, I had to run by Green Hills Mall before going home. (It’s kind of a ritzier mall, I guess.) So I went, covered in splatters. I decided if anyone asked, I’d just say I had a baby who’d flung food all over me.

See? Graceful does not describe me. Crazy, awkward, or slightly off-kilter might be better descriptions.

(This, my friends, is why I’ve learned to laugh at myself.) 🙂