Battle wounds

When I told people I would be going into retail (for the time being), I heard about it all. The rude customers, hours on your feet, frusterating schedules. However, no one told me about the potential injuries I would undoubtedly withstand from doing nothing more than coming around the counter to help a customer.

The sad fact is, though, that most people are probably not as clumsy as I am. Since starting my job at the Gap, I have been covered, head to toe (literally, I had a bump on my head and a blister on my toe at the same time) with cuts and bruises. I've walked into the front counter more time than I care to admit, walked into every display shelf in our store, plus several extra ones in the back, and knocked my head on the handle of the dressing room door (don't ask). Why didn't anyone warn me that retail could be potentially fatal for an accident prone individual such as myself?

It probably goes without saying that my clumsiness extends into my life beyond the land of sweaters and khakis (Gap). But this past weekend, I managed to take my klutziness to new heights. Chris made a wonderful lamb dinner for the two of us and, in the span of that evening, I managed to spill pretty much the entire salad on the floor (did you know that arugula will stick to the wall under the right circumstances?) and an entire glass of wine all over his tablecloth, chair, and floor. Dear lord. My only, pathetic, defense would be that I'd had some wine. Okay, a lot of wine, but still.

I attempted to remove the stain with OxyClean, but I am not sure if my efforts were fruitful. On the upside, Chris's otherwise boring, old brown carpet will now be a lovely shade of purple. At least, in some places.