A houseplant? Nope. I am not good with houseplants. I am the stuff of nightmares for houseplants. I am a monster when it comes to houseplants. It would be more kind to dump bleach in the pots and kill them quickly than to have them share space with me.
A plant manager? Not that either. I am not good at management. I worked in management for five years and hated it. Being a manager is too peoply. Also, if you are in management, then you for sure are going to be involved in conflict of some sort. I hate conflict. I loathe confrontations of any kind. I would rather wear Spanx every day for the rest of my life than have a confrontation. Maybe. I have to think about that one.
Robert Plant? I like Robert Plant. I love to sing along to Robert Plant. Robert Plant would probably put a hit out on me if he heard me singing his words. I am tone deaf and pretty sure if I sing long enough, I could actually set a person’s ear drums on fire. Okay, that’s not true. I exaggerate. Although, I do make Randy cringe sometimes.
Plant a seed? No again. The first year we lived in this house, I started trays and trays of annuals before spring. I was going to have a backyard bursting with color. Small woodland creatures would be my friend and I would finally end my plant killing spree. I planted rows of different types of flowers around the koi pond when the broke ass koi pond was not broke ass. I did not plant sunflowers. Not a single sunflower was planted around my koi pond. However, the only thing that grew around my pond was dozens of giant sunflowers. I still have no idea how I managed to do that. They never came back.
No, I am not talking about those kinds of plants.
I want to talk to you about face plants.
I am not graceful. It would be fair to call me a klutz. I have fallen, given myself concussions, had stitches multiple times, and we could talk about burns all day long.
Last week, as I got ready for work, I walked headfirst into my bathroom door. I hit it hard enough to see stars. I went downstairs, told Randy, and he examined my head.
Randy: Yeah, you have a nice little knot on your head.
Me: Great. Now I get to go to work and tell people I ran into a door.
My office mate laughed when I told her that. She said that she knew me long enough to believe 100 % that I ran into a door.
After hitting my head, I went out to my car and was situating my stuff in the passenger seat. I didn’t notice that I had tilted my coffee mug and was pouring a stream of coffee into my left coat sleeve. I didn’t notice until the warm coffee hit my armpit. After I moved my arm, coffee cascaded over my arm and dripped through my fingers. So, I was backing down my driveway while trying to shake the coffee out of my coat.
Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve spilled coffee in my own armpit.
Anyway, these acts of klutziness paled in comparison to yesterday.
Yesterday, I had a meeting with my boss and the VP of operations. We were in a phone conference with some consultants and it was terrible. I hate meetings. They are boring and my boss’s office is always too hot.
After an hour of torture, it was time to leave.
I got up and my foot hooked around the chair leg.
I launched across the floor in a spectacular, awkward face plant.
You guys, I didn’t just trip a little. I went down on one knee, then pitched forward into a full on face plant. I missed a conference table by mere inches.
My knee and shoulder were instantly on fire. My boss and the VP of operations gasped and asked if I was okay. I got up on my knees and said “Ta da”.
I wanted to scream at them to get out and pretend they didn’t know me, but I decided that would be unreasonable.
My face is turning purple thinking about my fall. I wasn’t just embarrassed, I was that “hot, swimmy, I wish the world would swallow me” embarrassed. My fall was this crashing body slam into the floor. The plastic cup in my hand was obliterated, but thankfully empty. At least, I didn’t turn my humiliation into a wet T-shirt contest.
I walked into my office, put my head on the filing cabinet, and whined to my office mates about the face plant. They were supportive. Well, if we can agree that “supportive” means “they laughed their asses off”.
We have a new co-worker in our room who sits in the cubicle next to me. She is in her mid twenties and a lovely woman. She tried to make me feel better.
Coworker: I think it’s endearing that you’re a little clumsy.
Me: It’s endearing when someone young and adorable like you is clumsy. When someone old is clumsy and they fall down, it’s not endearing. It’s sad and uncomfortable for everyone involved.
So, I’m a little sore right now. My knee is skinned up and bruised, but not as much as my pride. I don’t think I injured my shoulder, but it is definitely pissed.
My coworkers made a sign and taped it to my cubicle. It’s a little yellow minion dude laying face down which says “I didn’t fall. The floor looked sad and like it needed a hug.”
It’s actually been worse, though. I’ll have to remember to tell you guys about the time at my last job when I launched a piece of cake that landed between my boobs.
Oh, and thanks for the help with naming our little kitty. We’ve settled on Alfie. Alfie the kitty is curled up behind me sleeping as I type this.