Clumsiness and poor-planning comes with my name. I have a tendency to panic over tasks such as when I might cook dinner, as though my world revolves around some form of time specific order. It doesn't. But for that reason, I'll often find myself in situations I'd rather not be in, situations that require just that little bit more effort and situations that are awkward and embarrassing until further notice.
Take Tuesday; I try to organise myself now to the best of my ability and since, usually things go to plan. But because my arms were aching in Lidl from an overload of ice cream, toilet cleaner and vegetables, I couldn't be bothered to finish my basket full of shopping with a feather light pack of toliet paper, so I didn't.
'I'll get it in ASDA down the road when I get home' I thought, not least because I knew, though the quality wasn't brilliant, I could still get 4 rolls for 65p. So long as my sensitive baby skin made it out of the toilet unscathed, I figured I'd be fine.
Anyhow, I didn't go and as my roll grew thinner and thinner, and I rooted around for spare towels of kitchen roll, I decided I might need to get some. I stopped off at Sainsbury's on my way home from Uni. I didn't need, at this point, anything else; just toilet paper. I found the aisle and scouting the cheapest offer for my tight and government-funded pocket, I soon realised the only one worth my while (ie. under £2) was a 6 pack of jumbo rolls amounting to a total of 2,400 sheets! It was only then, as I awkwardly took myself to the self-checkout, that I realised I might need pens. I searched for the aisle but couldn't find them, which led me to walk around the entire shop with my 2,400 sheet toilet paper and imagining the conversation I would have if someone approached me. (I don't know why but I was adamant that it was the norm for people to ask about the contents of your basket and, moreover, why you were walking around straddling a packet of toilet tissue that you could barely hold. I figured that I'd tell them that I was going clubbing. As a mummy. Standard.)
Had I, with a little less laziness and more perseverance, just bought it when I did my weekly shop anyway, I would have spared the embarrassment.
And now, having just moved from cutting Christmas wrapping paper with rusted nail clippers, I have once again found that not all my ideas are the greatest. I find myself jumping in the shower and forgetting to close my curtains before I go in, meaning that I come out and give spectators a sore view of my rather white behind. I invite people for pre-drinks at mine and forget the alcohol. I throw away tubes of toothpaste and then realise that I need some more before I can be bothered to go out and get some. I try and water dead plants to coax them back to life as though I'm Jesus.
These occurrences can only prevail and, no matter, they make me who I am.
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