Jesser the Clumsy

I think I shall go down in history as Jesser the Clumsy. No “the great” or the “nerdy” even, for me. Clumsiness seems to define my existance lately. As I look at the back of my hands, while typing, I can see no less than 6 scratches/abrasions. There are more if I turn them over. And sadly, I only know how I got about half of them.

A brief recap of my recent clumsiness:
* reached up into our upper cabinet to get the huge bottle of oil for some baking; finger got cut on said bottle's plastic seam on the bottom
* jar of cherry preserves fell out of the refrigerator, bounced up and hit me on my ankle bone; swore like a sailor
* scraped the back of my hand against the door frame when leaving tabby's room
* knicked my finger on a food processor blade (barely even noticed this, but now it stings a lot)
* two large abrasions on my legs still not gone from going tubing and hitting rocks at the beginning of august
… and the piece d'resistance ….
* while in Nashville, pulled a glass door open over my foot and cut my foot deeply in two spots; bled so much i dripped blood all over the bathroom floor and stained my flipflop; rode around in the car with my foot in a plastic bag so i wouldn't stain matt's car's interior

Maybe I need more sleep. Or more time so I'm not always rushing around.