Charles Jensen | Writer

I woke up yesterday with a serious case of klutz-o-saurus-ness. In the course of about an hour, I nearly dropped two glass things onto other glass things that could have shattered and sent shrapnel deep into my arms and chest (two separate events) and also tripped.

In the past month, I have tripped over my dog no fewer than three times, of which one time caused me to throw an arm against my bedroom window, which–fortunately–did not shatter or simply let me fall through it.

Knowing me is to know that at any given moment, my body is covered in small bruises, scrapes, and cuts. My body bruises with such willingness that a well-intentioned/fliratious pinch can leave a lasting mark. And my bruises are nothing if not artistic: rich purple, midnight blues, pale greens and yellows.

I have sprained my ankles 8 times. On one especially unforunate occasion, I sprained my right ankle trying to catch a rebound in gym class, fell, and then sprained my left wrist trying to catch my fall.

I was once passed the ball in basketball by my coach and I caught it with my face.

Probably my worst klutz injury was when I went to my high school friend’s cotillion. Running into her house in the dark, in pouring rain, I was unable to see the two-foot high cement block wall between the door and me. Before I even realized something was wrong, I was face-down in a puddle on the other side, my shin scraped so deep that the white of the bone was exposed beneath rivulets of blood.

I trip somewhere in my office at least once a day. Always witnessed by one of my staff members.

I routinely choke on my own spit and end up in a coughing fit or stumble over my own shoes. While I’m wearing them. And often, nearly fall.

Interestingly enough, I’ve never had a car accident.