I woke up this morning wondering, why is my phone sticky?
I flung it into the flaming dessert at dinner last night. Danced right off my fingertips and into a white chocolate bath.
Copious amounts of cabernet or my habitual clumsiness. You be the judge.
It all happened so fast, Arturo.
I was lovingly dubbed “Miss K” as a kid. K for klutz, my parents confessed years later. (When my delicate psyche could handle the truth).
The epitome of athletic prowess. Clearly.
I'd like to think I've shed gawky, slipping into grace with age...
Some things change. Some things never do.