And So It Goes

The older I get, the clumsier I seem to get. My graceful days, if they ever existed, may be behind me now.

I opened a can of black beans, put half the beans in a bowl, added onion and cayenne pepper and chili pepper, and heated it for part of my evening meal. As I cleaned up the kitchen, I bumped the remaining half can of beans and it tipped over. I saw it falling and grabbed for it, but missed. My hand hit the toaster, knocking it off the countertop. Black beans and bean juice poured onto the kitchen floor, spattering everywhere. After a ricochet off the wall, the toaster hit the floor hard and half the plastic on one end broke off, revealing the mechanism inside. I stopped still and looked at the mess I had suddenly created, and I thought, “This is not good.” In my younger days I would have thrown in a couple of juicy expletives. I’ve made too many messes to get that upset any more. Once, when I was painting the walls and ceiling of this very same kitchen, I tipped over a half gallon of paint onto the floor. Not just onto the floor, but onto the brand new, just installed, vinyl flooring. Oy.

After cleaning the kitchen floor, I decided to bathe. So I showered, toweled dry, and went to my bedroom to dress. It’s evening and I’m not going out, so I put on a warm-up suit and thick, crew socks. That’s when I noticed I was down to my last pair of clean socks. I pulled them on, making a mental note to wash the laundry first thing in the morning. Feeling thirsty, I walked to the kitchen to get something to drink. I like to use a large plastic mug that holds about 3 cups. I filled the mug with water, added a squirt of lemon juice and some sweetener to make lemonade. As I turned to get ice cubes I bumped the mug on something which caused it to spill a quarter cup of lemonade onto my left foot. Oy, again. I stared at my wet sock. Should I leave it on or take it off? I don’t have another clean sock. This one will dry faster if I leave it on. So I do. As I type these words, my right foot is toasty warm while my left foot is cool on top and feels a bit icky.

And so it goes: the life of the single man.