I have good days and bad days of being clumsy, and today was definitely a bad day. I have a constant war with inanimate objects: if there’s something I can hit my head on I’ll hit it, if there’s something breakable I’ll drop it, if there’s a length of wire or a washing line it’ll get into a knot, if there’s a step I can trip over I’ll trip over it.
Each incident is intensely annoying and often painful, but the cumulative effect, after a while, is simply depressing. The first few times I swear (and my language is appalling). Then I break things, in a pathetic attempt to punish them for making my life such a misery. Finally I’m reduced to crying, often on the floor, as much in frustration as in defeat.
Why do inanimate objects hate me so much? What did I ever do to them? It’s a mystery to me.