Low how the mighty has fallen

I was born into a family of thinkers. People that would generally prefer to stay awake well beyond midnight reading a book than get up in the morning to go to the beach or meet friends to play ball. That doesn't mean that we don't enjoy the competition of sports, merely that it isn't usually our first choice. As a child my sister was not known for being the most graceful person, she was, in fact, a total klutz. This malady resulted in her being dubbed with the sarcastic nickname Grace for a period of time.

As a direct result of this I grew up with a bit of a superiority complex concerning my ability to get from Point A to Point B without falling down or running in to something.

Over the course of the past year I have come the the humbling conclusion that I was not spared the curse of the klutz, merely afflicted a bit later in life.

I realized this after I noticed a pattern emerging in my daily life. If there is a set of stairs that I attempt to walk up or down, I am certain to trip going up or fall going down. If there is anything laying on the floor, no matter how far away from it my intended route is, I will trip over it or step on it. Walls? I can walk into them without even having the excuse of aiming for a doorway because there is rarely a doorway anywhere in the vicinity of the section of wall that I walk into. I can fall, with nothing around to trip me. If I try to hold more than one thing in each hand, I will drop one or all of them.

As embarrassing as this affliction is, I have finally come to terms with the fact that the harder I try to stay on my feet, the more likely it is that I will fail miserably. And as long as I am unable to stop myself from meeting the floor on a regular basis then I might as well laugh as myself.

After all, everyone around me is laughing like a pack of hyenas at how low the mighty has fallen.