For one day - that's all I'm asking - I would like to not spill something and, as a result, not have to clean something up.
Today (it's currently 11:51 p.m. on Wednesday) was almost almost that day. Then about 15 minutes ago I kicked over an open bottle of over-priced-yet-totally-worth-it-b/c-I-haven't-been-able-to-find-it-in-7-years IBC black cherry pop, and it went cascading across the coffee table. (Yeah, hon, I'm glad you were asleep for that one.) And I, of course, followed with a mound of papertowels, both wet and dry, and cleaned it up.
Yesterday, I spilled rice, from the pot, onto the tablecloth and the hardwood floor. I can't remember what I spilled on Monday, but trust me, I spilled. The day before I spilled my water when Brad and I were at Starbucks. Most memorable in recent history is the half mug of Dr. Pepper I spilled on my leather couch. That was a sh*t show if ever there was one. I can't remember the last time I moved so fast.
I'm not sure what my problem is. Do I have a self-fulfilling prophecy kind of thing going on here? Are my motor skills just that bad? Or maybe it's my memory since I put something down, make a mental note not to knock it over, then proceed to knock it over with uncompromising swiftness (sounds like a little bit of option 1 in there, too). Perhaps I am just a klutz, plain and simple.
I don't know why I can't go even a day without messing up a shirt or a couch cushion, but I so frequently spill Mt. Dew, Snapple, water, and every type of solid food you'd never imagine someone spilling (like, oh, Bagel Bites) that Brad's thinking about putting restrictions on my use of dish towels. I dirty those suckers faster than he can clean 'em.