Don't Stand So Close To Me (Really, You Could Get Hurt)

(Because there was no Little Miss Clumsy)

I am clumsy. Butterfingered. A total spazz. I injure myself and destroy things in ways that defy physics and logic. Plates jump to their death from my hands. I hit my head on picture frames I could swear I'm nowhere near. I once gave myself a hematoma while dismounting a stationary bike. (When I tried to explain the gigantic bruise to my doctor at my physical, she paused then asked me how safe I felt with my husband. Yup.)

I've always been a nexus of stupid accidents, but I hoped I would outgrow it. My family thought I was just spacey, and I believed that theory enough to think that as a functioning adult and mother, I'd be less disaster-prone. But I have finally acknowledged that ridiculous things are always going to happen to me. Now I just need to figure out the best way to minimize the damage.

I'm bringing all this up thanks to my most recent disaster. Keep in mind that this story is going to sound completely improbable to you, a non-clumsy person. To me? It's pretty typical of a Saturday afternoon.

Recently, I bought a couple of chairs for $12 apiece that were in perfect condition except for a stain on each seat cushion. So I decided I'd take another turn as DIY-girl and re-cover the cushions. The internet assured me that this would be a piece of cake. All I needed was a screwdriver, new fabric, and a staple gun.

Having procured a replaceable-head screwdriver from our tool kit, I began yanking approximately eight hundred staples out of the bottom of the existing cushion. On the second-to-last staple, the pin holding the screwdriver head in place went ping and bounced off into the ether. Of course, instead of making it to the floor, it ended up in the depths of my armchair.

After taking the cushion off, I realized that the tiny ball-bearing had, in fact, rolled all the way down into the netting below the chair. I sighed and thought about putting everything away and waiting until Mr. Razor got home to help me. But he was out with the baby and I didn't want to greet him with, "Please pick up this large, heavy object. Oh, also, I broke the screwdriver." Plus, there were only two staples left, and I get psychotic about finishing projects once I've started them. If I didn't find the pin, there was a good chance I'd end up picking those staples out with my teeth.

So I poked around and realized that there was a hole in the netting near the front of the chair. Perfect. I'd just tip the chair forward and the ball would roll out, where I could recover it, fix the screwdriver, and finish my project without anyone ever knowing about my latest mishap.

Except when I tipped the chair, it hit the floor lamp next to it, which then crashed to the floor before I could drop the armchair to catch it, shattering its glass shade and eco-friendly lightbulb. Sigh. I spent the next hour carefully removing shards of glass from the corner of the living room. I never got back to the screwdriver or the last two staples.

To sum up: In my attempt to save some money on decorating, I destroyed a screwdriver and a large lamp, whose replacement cost completely cancelled out my bargain. From now on, I will be limiting my craft projects to ones involving finger paint and pipe cleaners.