Fine, I'll Admit Defeat, PTB

Many words have been used to describe me, graceful has never been one of them. On the other hand; clumsy, uncoordinated and klutz have been used on more than one occasion. Normally, I'm fine with this, we all have our little foibles and as far as personal faults go, tripping over one's own feet is not high on the serious issue list.

Sure, I get the sporadic black eye from literally, walking into doors or a sprained ankle from falling up a flight of stairs. I've had to explain the weird scratches on my arm from misjudging a turn in the sidewalk causing a nasty meet and greet with a thistle bush. Of course my wardrobe has also suffered a few casualties from rouge coffee cups, soup spoons and gas pumps. Once again, this doesn't usually bother me; I've been blessed with a talent that allows me to replace items that have felt the need to betray me.



Every once in a great while however, the powers that be conspire so completely against me I just have to sigh, sit on the curb and call my mom to bring me a spare set of keys and a change of clothes.

Today, my schedule was packed. I had a gallery tour, a meeting with a potential client and a bunch of errands to run in between. The gallery tour was at 8 am, a bit early for my tastes but the tour was in preparation for a charity event and I have a soft spot for sick kids. Of course I oversleep, that's just a given, I do it so often I have a routine that will get me all prettified and out the door with a cup of coffee in 10 minutes or less. This routine leaves me a bit frazzled so as I'm driving down my street, coffee in hand, I completely forget about the stop sign I stop at multiple times everyday until I'm almost on top of it. I slam on the breaks just in time and cover myself and car with hot coffee.

Okay, surprising as it may seem, this is not the first time this has happened at this same stop light nor is it something I'm not prepared for. I put my empty coffee cup in the cup holder, quickly get my stained shirt off, use it to wipe down the windshield and continue on my way. While driving I reach behind me, grope around for a bit, find my spare shirt and maneuver into it while keeping one hand on the wheel and both eyes on the road. At a stoplight I check out the damage to my pants and decide a few blots with napkins I keep in my jokey box will do just fine; there's a reason I own many pairs of dark brown slacks.

I arrive at the gallery at 8:12, anything under 15 minutes is on time in WeeWee's rule book. The tour goes great. We agree on the pieces I'll be donating along with their placement; we set up our next meeting and I am out of there with a big grin on my face. The craziness of my morning forgotten. I now have 2 hours to grab some art supplies, a quick bite to eat and get to my client meeting. I contemplate stopping  home to freshen up but decide that would take too much time. I'm off to the art store.

As usual, even with Jill, my GPS, I get turned around a few times adding an extra 20 minutes to my travel time. Luckily I have a very specific shopping list so I'll be in and out with time to spare or so I think. As I'm walking through the parking lot I manage to aim my step so perfectly my heel goes straight into the center of a manhole cover. I fall flat on my face, scrape up my palms, get some sort of goo on my pant leg and break the heel of the disloyal heel. My art store shopping list has instantly been revised. Limping into the store, I smile at the clerk and milling regulars who sadly are not surprised to see me in my current condition and head straight into the employee bathroom; it's good to be a valued customer. I wash my hands, do the best I can with the unidentifiable goo on my thigh and check myself over in the mirror.

The mirror holds an extra special surprise for me. Somehow during my relaxed morning routine I manged to miss the huge streak of orange paint in my hair. Good thing the people I met with at the gallery earlier already think I'm a bit crazy. The client I'm with in...crap, 45 minutes! Will not be as willing to ignore paint in my hair. There goes any plans I had for eating today. I run through all my possible options and figure out a plan that doesn't involve rescheduling with the client, which isn't an option. It's not a pleasant plan but I'm stuck. I go out into the store, pick up some super glue, paint thinner, stain remover, scissors and head back to the bathroom. I glue my heel back on, use the stain remover on my pants and the paint thinner on my hair then take a deep breath when neither works. So, I use the paint remover on my pants and the scissors on my hair...now I have a hole in both.

I can do some magic with the missing chunk hair but the pants are a lost cause. I pay for my supplies, check my time and thank the gods that there is a Target across the street. I race over to Target and buy a pair of slacks. I quickly change in the car and get over to client's office. I get there with enough time to take a few calming breaths, grab my portfolio and ignore the fact my new Target pants are a bit small. Walking up to reception my stomach starts to growl and I feel the super glue holding my shoe together start to weaken. I tell myself to stay calm, I can deal with this.

I do deal and make it through the meeting with a big smile on my face. I'm pretty sure I even landed the gig. I carefully walk back to my car trying to decide where I'm going to get some food....I am starving! I get to the car, start search for my keys and realize I have manged to somehow lock my keys in the car...I still can't figure out how that's even possible in a newer car. I vaguely remember watching some spy show where the guy is able to pop the tailgate by twisting some wire under the car. So, I get down, split my new, too small, Target pants, shimmy under my car, get who knows what all over myself  and discover there are no wire under my car. I scoot out from under my car and walk around the corner; I can't let my potential client see me like this.

I had been defeated by the powers that be, I was finally ready to admit it. I broke down and called my mom for help. She was a bit too eager to come to the rescue. But I did get the last laugh...The client just called and offered me the job for 10% over my normal rate. Take that powers that be! You can't stop the WeeWee!

Princess WeeWee