Clumsy is what clumsy does

Do you have any idea what I'm risking just by being here.

I might delete my blog entirely by accident.

I might accidentally type the secret combination of words programmed at the very beginning of time as we know it designed to wipe the entire internet clean and start again. You know, in case it actually did end up filled with nothing but smut.

The world itself may come to an abrupt end.

Well ok perhaps not, but I have been incredibly clumsy this week.

So much so that I question whether or not its safe to leave the house.

So far, this week alone (my clumsiness extends as far back as I can remember) I have;

Cut myself 3 times making meals, one of those times was with a butter knife. I ask you!

Managed to sew my finger to fabric when I'd have been happy to just include the button with no added extras.

Fallen down my garden steps.

Stubbed my toe.

Fell out of bed. I may or may not have had a glass or two of wine.

Stabbed myself in the finger countless times making mini notebooks (those things are dangerous).

Tripped over my own feet.

And to top of my resoundingly pratastic week I tried to take Toots to buy her some sandals today and maybe some new clothes. The first shop we went to is quite expensive but they did have a fantastic sale on. Toots was playing with the foot measuring thingy while I looked at a few different pairs of shoes when all I heard in the crowded, but really rather quiet, shop was an almighty parp followed by Toots loudly and proudly exclaiming "I FARTED".

Needless to say we didn't get shoes.

Then onto the second shop I asked her nicely at the front door to behave for a few minutes and explained that I just wanted to pick her up a couple of skirts and then we could go for ice cream. We entered the shop and Toots immediately spied a pair of pink and purple and glittery (no less) sunglasses and while trying to pick them up to have a closer look she knocked over the single largest pile of swimming costumes I've ever seen on display.

Of course, I'm left scrabbling on the floor trying to gather them all up again, trying to lay them back on the shelf just as they were which turned out to be completely impossible because the women who work in the shop are geniuses and they have a knack of this kind of thing which clearly I do not and I kept getting the strappy bits tangled round my fingers and knocking even more of them to the ground again.

I finally managed to get them back on the shelf and not looking too badly either if I do say so myself when I stood up straight and whacked my forehead against another shelf which caused me to jump roughly 29 feet into the air because it frightened the life out of me and by that stage everyone in the shop had stopped what they were doing to watch the mad, dancing chimp playing with the swimming costumes.

Finally I thought "stuff it" this just wasn't going to be the day for shopping. I gave up and we settled ourselves on the grass in the square with a couple of blue slush puppies.

Hmmm lovely.

And I was just thinking that maybe the day wasn't that bad after all, when I chucked half of the bright toxic looking blue slush puppie down the front of myself.

The four year old was immaculate.

I think I may go hide under the covers.