Clumsy me
Clank! There goes another utensil. Guess you can call it divine intervention that every time I step into the kitchen, the utensils start falling on their own from everywhere. As if the auto clumsy button gets activated as soon as I am near something that is ‘fallable’ (I know that’s not a legit word, so what, the dictionary needs new words once in a while). Actually, I am one of those people because of whom the stores put up placards saying, “Considered sold if broken!” In fact, just a while ago I tripped on the doormat of my room. And if not the doormat, it would have been the door stopper, the side table, the book rack, the dressing table, you got the picture. I can even stumble on a perfectly leveled floor! My pinky fingers are so prone to getting hurt that now I hardly well-up when I dash them against anything that I had so conveniently ignored to see, despite seeing. Once, I attempted a magical feat by trying to walk through a glass door. Yeah! You read it right. I w...