Just clumsy

Oh my god, can I not get through a single day without injuring myself in some shape or form?

This weekend alone, I trapped my hand in a door, so painfully I actually started to hyperventilate, then because I am right-handed, instinctively put that same hand out to break my fall when I somehow managed to trip up some stairs that very evening. Aaaarghhh. Some women like to carry a small compact and some lipstick in their bag, in addition, I like to carry a family-sized tube of arnica and a bumper pack of Solpadine Max strength.

What’s wrong with me? Why must I insist on walking into door frames? Do I not see them? Is female spatial awareness really that bad, or is it just me? My own theory is that my mind must be on more important things at the times of these incidents, in the style of a bumbling professor if you will, too busy considering the meaning of the universe to notice the proximity of a table corner to my thigh, for example.

My brother, on the other hand, who was recently witness to me walking straight into a chest-level bollard (how did I miss it?), so hard I winded myself, and also to an incident where I cracked my knee against a steel door in a café (my question here though is this: why a steel door?), has another theory: He just thinks I am ‘a right dozy cow’.

Hmm. I like my theory better, but the evidence supporting his is unquestionably stronger. You'll have to excuse me now, I'm off to invest in some knee pads.