Whoops...

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am quite possibly the most clumsy person on the planet.  I blame the stork-like legs I was cursed with in youth, and also I think gravity is determined to make me its bitch.  I have never met a staircase I haven't fallen up, down, and sideways.  And yes, I have fallen OFF of my shoes more than once.

In the past week, I have fallen no less than 5 times.  Three of the times were pretty minor, but let me tell you about the other two.  The first involved chickens.  Bill built our hens a new, really fancy hen-house.  Our hens, being the birds of the devil, quickly decided they hated the new house and launched a mind-game war upon us.  They refused to use the new house, electing instead to continue both roosting and laying in the old house.  This couldn't be tolerated, as we had not only put a large amount of money into the new house, we needed the old one for our hogs, which were due to arrive in just days.

So, being the red-neck farm-girl I was raised to be, I determined that as soon as the nasty old biddies went to sleep we would move them to the new house.  Oh, I was cocky...pun intended.  This would only take a jiffy.  I grabbed my ratty old flip-flops, and off Bill and I went to move the chickens.  Ungrateful wretches.  I stooped and slouched into the old hen house, which was obviously designed for only midget chicken farmers, and proceeded to catch 3 of our 4 chickens.  The final old bird hopped off the roost, and ran around avoiding me for several minutes as I crouched, much like a pissed-off chimpanzee, trying to catch her.  Having finally caught the rotten egg-factory I hunched toward the door, cursing my dependence upon eggs for yummy baked goods.

As I put my right foot onto the lawn, I forgot that not only was I wearing what is laughably called "summer footwear" AKA, great big sled runners, the lawn was soaking wet.  And down I went,  thinking the whole time, "Don't let go of the damn chicken or you will never catch her again."  As I lay there, my ass soaked and muddy, my back scraped up, stupid chicken pecking at my head, I looked up.  There stood Bill.  Laughing. At me.  He thought it funny that I hadn't let go of the chicken.

Skip forward to last night.  The kids wanted to ride their bikes in the garage, which meant we needed to move the cars out.  I got into my car, and moved it.  Bill didn't want to start his pick-up unnecessarily, so he decided I would help him push it out.  Wearing my trusty flip-flops again, I was gung-ho to get 'er done.  BUT it has been raining.  All of our vehicles have been dripping water.  Which I stepped in.  BLAM!  Down I went again.  My knee was skinned up and all sting-y.  I wanted to cry a little but the girls were watching.  As I limped into the house, Bill was giving me pointers on how to be more graceful....

I threw the flip-flops in the garbage.