Well, it is my last night in the Bay before going back to good ole Brizzle, and I think I have succeeded in leaving my 'mark' here again. In the duration of my short stay I have managed to knock over so many glasses of water that I cannot actually remember just how many glasses have fallen prey to the wrath of my foot. I managed to chip one of mum and dad's mugs by dropping a jar of marmite and it collided with the mug on its way down. Then the finale came today when I was with Katy in a certain homestore.
Having been in the shop for less than 3 minutes, I was walking between a shelf display (oh yes, you know what's coming) and a stack of cushions or something of that nature. It was rather a small gap and I slightly misjudged the width of me and my big fat bag. (I am pretty sure that I haven't put on so much weight over Christmas that I have added so many inches to my size that I am that unaware of how big I am - maybe just poor spacial awareness.
So anyway, as I walked through this little gap I heard the sound of tumbling objects. Not just any old objects, like a little bit of tupperware, or some cushions or duvets (ironically, because I was in the bedlinen section, so I should have been pretty safe - if I fell I'd most likely fall onto a ready-made bed - definite bonus to find a bed prepared for sleep in a shop of all places, if any linen fell, it would have been fine because it's unbreakable) but vases. I stopped dead still in the hope of preventing any wobbling vase from tumbling to its demise. The lovely Katy, meanwhile, was 'oop-ing' and 'argh-ing' behind me, trying desperately to rescue my latest victim. But her efforts were in vain and the vase ended up on the floor in quite a lot of pieces. What was slightly scary was the speed at which a shop assisstant was at the scene of the accident picking up the pieces - quite literally.
Oh dear. I suppose the only positive thing about the victims of my clumsiness is that they are not human so while I don't want to seem like I don't care, at the end of the day these things don't actually matter if they break. Let's just hope no children in my care are ever hurt by my clumsiness.
Having been in the shop for less than 3 minutes, I was walking between a shelf display (oh yes, you know what's coming) and a stack of cushions or something of that nature. It was rather a small gap and I slightly misjudged the width of me and my big fat bag. (I am pretty sure that I haven't put on so much weight over Christmas that I have added so many inches to my size that I am that unaware of how big I am - maybe just poor spacial awareness.
So anyway, as I walked through this little gap I heard the sound of tumbling objects. Not just any old objects, like a little bit of tupperware, or some cushions or duvets (ironically, because I was in the bedlinen section, so I should have been pretty safe - if I fell I'd most likely fall onto a ready-made bed - definite bonus to find a bed prepared for sleep in a shop of all places, if any linen fell, it would have been fine because it's unbreakable) but vases. I stopped dead still in the hope of preventing any wobbling vase from tumbling to its demise. The lovely Katy, meanwhile, was 'oop-ing' and 'argh-ing' behind me, trying desperately to rescue my latest victim. But her efforts were in vain and the vase ended up on the floor in quite a lot of pieces. What was slightly scary was the speed at which a shop assisstant was at the scene of the accident picking up the pieces - quite literally.
Oh dear. I suppose the only positive thing about the victims of my clumsiness is that they are not human so while I don't want to seem like I don't care, at the end of the day these things don't actually matter if they break. Let's just hope no children in my care are ever hurt by my clumsiness.
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