"She Can't Help It, The Girl Can't Help It"*

Today I backhanded a tennis ball across the court to my husband. We'd been playing for almost two hours without incident. Incident meaning me getting hit by a ball.

In fact, he had just commented (the dear) that,

"Hey, you haven't been hit by a ball!"

I merely muttered, "Please don't go saying things like that before we're finished playing."

So I had quite nicely hit the ball over to his side when he whacked it back and it headed straight for my chest. No bounce, just straight towards me. I instintively stuck my hand out, which did, effectively stop the ball. It really hurt though and I wanted to throw the racquet.

Now, I realize that getting hit with a tennis ball (hard) isn't necessarily out of the ordinary, but if you're thinking that, then perhaps you don't know me too well.

I am, for lack of a better word, clumsy. So much so, that Drew the other day whacked his leg against some concrete and thought to himself that he just "Pulled an Adri." Wow. All I can say is that the man is lucky I'm in love with him.

I drop things, a lot. Primarily kitchen utensils (the sharper the better, right?), markers while teaching and Drew's favorite, M&M's while filling up the dispenser.

I hit my shin on the bathtub at least once a week. The bathtub doesn't change, I should know through conditioning to raise my leg higher.

I constantly stub my toes. Walls, table legs, other people's feet. Once I even ran the vacuum cleaner over my big toe.

I get stepped on quite frequently. Yes, stepped on. In line by adults, at school by children. Of course I usually have flip-flops of peep-toes on at these moments.

If something can be slammed shut, I will do it. Not because I actually SLAM it shut, but moreso because it just...seems...to...slip out of my hand...really quickly, making a loud noise.

If I am bent over, picking something up and there is a sharp corner anywhere in the vicinity, my head will find it.

Flip flops + me + any moisture at ALL = recipe for disaster.

And let's not forget that I get hit by flying objects...more than the average person should. Frisbee during a picnic in the park, soccer ball simply walking by, multiple dodge balls to the thigh just passing, tennis ball in the hand, and my personal favorite, a fly ball at an Aggie baseball game. The ball came soaring towards me as I thought, "Surely it won't hit me?" Well, as my, then boyfriend, ducked and covered, I was hit square in the chest, sending my popcorn flying through the air. Upon recovering from having the wind knocked out of me, I picked the ball up out of my lap and received applause from those around me.

I kept the ball.

Is this all because I'm not paying enough attention? Because of some random genetic wiring? Because I'm left handed?

Who knows.

I just know I want to stop getting hit by things.

*The title is pulled from Fergie's song, "Clumsy" off of the album, The Duchess.