Have you ever wondered what happens when a perfectionist – one of those annoyingly, perfectly precise ones – marries a klutz and they decide to procreate? Of course, it makes sense that they would be attracted to one another, since physics dictates that opposites attract. However, what absolutely and completely does not make sense is how they landed up producing a ‘perfectionistic klutz’. It’s just not feasible for those two, seemingly contradictory characteristics to be present in any, single human being – but here I am!

For many years, I’ve tried so hard to do things perfectly. Yet somehow, in a way that was never comprehensible to me, I’ve always managed to thwart my own efforts. Take baking, for instance. I love to bake and, when I do, I’m always trying to make the perfect cake, the best brownies or the most delicious cookies. The fact that I am constantly burning myself is neither here nor there. And, I suppose, the related mess and the excessive amount of utensils employed in this task can’t really be attributed to being a klutz. However, when you leave a spoon in your batter while going to haul out the electric mixer and then forget about the spoon, which has now sunk into the murky depths of the batter, you’ve got a problem.

This was one of my more recent baking experiences and, as I stood there beating away with the electric mixer, I could not fathom for the life of me what was wrong with the bowl. It felt as though it had developed some sort of lump in the middle. Still, it was only after I had finished mixing the batter, and had poured it into a baking dish, that the elusive spoon reappeared and everything suddenly made sense. I had one of those “aha” moments, followed by a fleeting thought of “you are such an idiot” before I started chuckling to myself. All I can say is thank goodness I didn’t break the electric mixer!

It’s safe to say that I won’t be repeating that mistake anytime soon. Nevertheless, I’m extremely prone to dropping things, constantly bumping my poor toes and – even though I’m reluctant to admit it – occasionally walking into things or other people. Yup! That’s me!

Here’s a peak at a particularly bad week when all I did was drop things:

Sunday night/Monday morning:
It’s midnight and I’m about to jump into bed. Then I pick up a bottle of bright yellow ointment, fumble with it and it goes crashing to my bedroom floor spraying ointment everywhere. I’m talking about on the tiles, the cupboard door, the shoes inside my cupboard, the carpet as well as the duvet cover and base cover of my bed. The klutz mutters “Oops” and retreats as fast as that. The perfectionist is busy for the next three hours trying to clean up everything before it stains – and she’s still doing damage control four days later.

Tuesday at work:
The klutz opens a tube of hand cream, which is nearly empty, and shakes it furiously to get the last bit out. Next thing there’s cream dotted all over my keyboard and computer screen – and I still haven’t got any cream on my hands. The perfectionist says, “Really! Did you have to?” and gets clean-up duty again.

Wednesday morning:
I somehow manage to drop a plastic container, which I’ve filled with yoghurt, right after I’ve stepped out of the house and locked my front door. The yoghurt splatters all over the tiles as well as on my trousers and suede boots. (NOOOO! Not the suede boots!) I have to go back inside to change and clean up. The klutz reassures me that at least the yoghurt container survived unscathed. But, then, it later leaks all over my desk at work and the perfectionist discovers that it’s actually cracked. Great!

Thursday morning:
The klutz is in full swing this week and subsequently knocks over that Tupperware container that I’m filling with cereal for work. Bran flakes go flying all over the kitchen counter and floor. The perfectionist is not impressed.

Friday:
Is it Friday yet?

Ah, yes! Being a ‘perfectionistic klutz’ is a total paradox and rather frustrating at times. The perfectionist in my head is constantly being sabotaged by the clumsy body that I inhabit and, no matter how hard I try, I can never quite seem to get things as perfect as I’d like. Naturally, some days are better than others. However, there are times when I become the ‘Master of Disaster’ and you should stay away from me, because I’m a danger to myself, never mind anyone else.

Although, I must say, I’m glad I’ve finally figured out how to define my ‘condition’. And, fortunately, the perfectionist takes the lead more often than not and the klutz only comes out when no one’s looking, so it’s easy to laugh it off. Besides, it’s not actually my fault. After all, you can’t choose your parents or the genetic makeup you inherit. So, the best thing to do is just roll with it… especially when you find you’ve tripped over your own feet again and you’re about to hit the floor.

© 2016 Audrey Whyte   All Rights Reserved