I just dribbled a little coffee on the left edge of the keyboard. Some might say 'oh...too bad' with empathy, having done it themselves, but I say "holy crap, Batman! Look at that.... it didn't get on me! Be still my heart."
You see.... I'm a slob. There, I said it out loud. A slob. I can't seem to help it. I can't seem to hide from it, either. I can put on a white 'frock' and go to the center of the room and just stand there. Within 30 minutes there will be a spot on the frock. If not a spot, then a huge dribbling country-lane of red rasberry juice flowing freely down the material. (cue the grandkid to run through the scene with his red vine licorice.) Or a semi-oily fingerprint stemming from extra strength handlotion. It... it is my purpose in life. And I've come to accept it.
I try to keep "good clothing" hanging in the closet ready for duty. If I go anywhere, I carefully put it on and as soon as I return, I just as carefully take it off and put it back into the closet for safe keeping. I think I'm down to 1.5 outfits in 'good' standing. The rest of the time I'm lounging around in my own personal stains.
I worked against this tendency (I'm being gentle with myself, here... tendency, indeed) for most of my life and it was just one bitchy thing after another. Some called me stand-offish. You better believe it! "Don't come near me, I'm clean!!" Others knew me for what I represented. "Don't set her too close to the table. You know what will happen with Crusty around. Sigh."
Anyway, I'm done fighting against it and its been a lot more restful around here.
All this from a dribble. How about that.
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