Stones, glass houses... you know how it goes.

The other day, I found myself inwardly chastising a middle-aged male co-worker who showed up to work in a button-up shirt and khakis paired with white socks and leather sandals. I shook my head in horror, marveling at the level of dorkitude he was able to achieve with that one bold wardrobe choice.

A few hours later, an incident while shopping forced me to rethink my air of superiority, and several other events throughout this particularly dorktastic week have served as further humbling proof that I'm really in no position to judge anyone. I may not wear socks with sandals, but there are plenty of other good, solid reasons that I am a tremendous oaf/loser/uncoordinated fool. I'm not too proud to share, so here are five of them.

1. In the dairy aisle at the grocery store recently, I walked towards the refrigerator case across from the milk, where I've always found my Kraft Deli-Thin Sliced Swiss before, only to see that the case is now filled with butter and tubes of cookie dough instead. In my brain, the words I immediately said were, "Who moved my cheese??" (And then I looked around quickly to make sure I had, in fact, used my inside-my-head voice for that and not my out-loud one. Whew.)
   
   
2. Earlier this week, I decided to wear the new American Apparel skirt I bought in Columbus. As usual, I tried it on one more time before clipping the tag (which was pointless in this case, really, as there is no American Apparel store here and therefore I was basically stuck with the skirt, like it or not). I then must have moved directly on to some other, more important task, because I didn't think about that tag again until I was sitting at work, fidgeting with my waistband, trying to figure out what on earth would be poking and scratching me so much. I'm a quick study, folks. Yay me.
   
   
3. That same day, I noticed a few little gnats or fruit flies circling near my desk, and I was immediately annoyed and indignant, wondering who had thrown something inappropriate in the uncovered trash can in the kitchen and caused such a disgusting disturbance. I smushed four of the damn little things before I finally moved the vinyl lunch bag I'd had sitting on my desk for who knows how long and inadvertently stirred up several more. I was too horrified to even look inside to see if it was a banana or a peach or who knows what else that caused fruit flies to spawn on the rot. I immediately folded the bag tight against itself and took it to the dumpster outside. And then shuddered repeatedly in my seat for the next two hours. Yech.
   
   
4. In one day (this Fourth of July Wednesday), I (A) cut myself shaving... three times, (B) drew blood stabbing myself on a plastic bottle, (C) nearly fell over whilst spinning around to show how twirly my skirt was, and (D) missed a step on a reasonably well-lit front stoop and nearly face-planted on the ground. Note: I was almost entirely sober during each and every one of these mishaps.
   
   
5. And finally, the ultimate in my terrible, "I'm very worried about my brain" week... I returned from work tonight and decided it was about time to haul out the cumbersome, noisy, and inefficient air conditioner units in my basement and finally get them into my windows for the season. In the process, I managed to rip the ill-fitting plastic accordion-folded piece that I typically tape between the unit and the window frame, so I had to improvise and cut a piece of cardboard for that space instead. I was actually mentally patting myself on the back, thinking how much better the cardboard fit in place anyway and wondering why I haven't just used cardboard for this purpose every year... Then I went outside to check the seal from the other angle, and only then did I say to myself, "Hey genius. Cardboard isn't waterproof, and it actually does, on occasion, rain a bit." Here's hoping the layer of duct tape I applied is sufficient in keeping out both water and intruders. (Kidding on that second part. I've actually got a really sophisticated method involving wooden dowels to keep the bad guys out.)
   

So. In summary, I am smart. And coordinated. And always thinking on my toes. Or, quite obviously, I am none of these. But at least I don't wear socks with sandals. There is that, anyway.