accidents and incidents

i'm a clumsy girl.  i wouldn't go so far as "accident prone," but i am definitely the type to spill on myself, spill on strangers, trip up the stairs, and fling forks every which way.  i think my entire wardrobe is visibly stained.  that's why i can't have nice things.

anyway, one summer when i was working at ranch camp in the mountains, the end of the season rolled around and it was time for the staff awards ceremony.  some people get best counselor, best attitude, best skit--i got best accident.  and it was kinda like i got two awards because i also caused best incident.  here's the story. 

i didn't drive campers very often, but for some reason, i was assigned to drive a backpacking trip into the tetons.  i got very careful instructions about parking and detaching the trailer, and i was feeling really good about my mad skills.  i even filled the van up with gas from the camp barrel so that it would be full for the next driver (thank you kindly, desert pete).  as i was topping my tank off, one of the cowboys came by and pointed out that i had just filled the entire tank with diesel gasoline.  this was not a diesel van.  oops.  "nobody told me!"

thus commenced the walk of shame to my boss's office.  i think my assistant boss might have started crying at the news, which made two of us.  anyway, they said they'd figure it out and send me the bill.  so i forgot about it, mostly.  the next day, some work friends were eating in town, and the cowboy from earlier mentioned something about burping gasoline.  i had no idea what he was talking about, but i sure laughed like i did.  (many of my social interactions go like that.)  months later, i finally got the joke when the cowboy won best incident for siphoning the diesel gas out of the van with his mouth.  yuck.

now, to the point.  today, sister j thought she'd do sister m a service by loading and starting her dishwasher.  soon, suds started seeping over the tile floor.  j showed me what she put in the washer, and yes, it was dish soap.  kinda like the time anne shirley gave diana berry hard liquor instead of raspberry cordial, we'd given m a big mess instead of a kind deed.  but the bottles look exactly the same.  honest mistake.  thirty minutes later, j had stopped panicking (think ruby gillis) and the dishwasher was suds-free.  i would have been laughing hysterically the whole time, except i'm still quite fragile from my big accident.

now, to the real point (have i ever written such a long blog in my life?).  last saturday, i was late for a movie with a friend because i absolutely had to clip my fingernails before leaving the house (or something equally critical).  i pulled on my fringe boots to channel fall and hopped on my road bike for speed. two blocks from home, my feet slipped off my clipless pedals, and my bike started careening wildly towards a ditch.  i completely lost control of the situation, very unlike me. 

next thing i know, i'm against the pavement, under my bike, struggling to get up because my backpack was stuck on my seat.  luckily, a jeep full of very nice men stopped to see if i was ok, and despite the fact that i was floundering on the ground like a fool "(what does it look like i'm doing?  fishing for lake trout?"), i quickly waved them on.    once i finally made it to standing, i had to text my friend to say, "i'm going to be even later than i thought.  i fell off my bike."  for some reason, i found (and find) that really humorous.  so many times i go biking, prepared and expecting to fall.  not this day, not when i'm two blocks from home, not when i'm wearing my pocahontas boots.  turns out, not many other people find my accident humorous or noteworthy, nor are many willing to give sympathy or presents when there's no blood to show.  come on people, what does it take?  i'm bleeding on the inside!

i can tell you're worried now, feeling bad even.  i am in pain, but please don't fret on my behalf.