Accidents happen. Fact of life. But what do you do about those things that aren’t quite accidents but really shouldn’t have happened?
I’m talking about the things we do that were just plain stupid. I might be the only one who misjudges my own body shape and routinely runs into the doorframe with my shoulder. (Or even more painful, opens the car door into my shoulder.) But I’m fairly certain I’m not the only one who pours orange juice into my bowl of cereal.
Is this clumsiness? Tiredness? Laziness? (“I just don’t want to move over so the car door doesn’t whack me.”) These are all nearly valid excuses for life’s “Not-Quite-An-Accident” incidents.
But what about this one? While babysitting for two little girls, I saw a small hole in the carved back of a wooden dining room chair. I thought, “Huh. That looks about the size of my pinky.” So I wanted to check and see if I was right. It almost was. I had to push a little to get it all the way in. Yes. I know.
Four hours later, after a phone call to my dad (“Is it cold water or hot water that makes swelling go down?”), a movie for the girls (remember that scene in Dumbo where the mommy elephant is locked in the cage and can just barely reach her baby by stretching out her trunk through the bars? Never empathized so much in my life.), and a lot of carting that chair around with me, the parents came home. They were greeted with, “Mommy! Andra’s got her finger stuck in a chair!”
My dad and the girls’ father considered sawing but weren’t sure how to stop the saw before it hit my finger. (Ack.) They settled on black grease from his garage. Then they pulled until I thought my finger would dislocate. It didn’t. (Oh, and the chair survived, too.)
That really wasn’t an accident. So what was it? Wanting to satisfy my curiosity? Lack of thinking clearly through my actions? (I’m trying just avoid this: Just plain stupid.)
Please say I’m not the only one with this problem.
At least I’m not accident-prone. Just not-quite-an-accident-prone.