I Bump Into Things, Sometimes

Yesterday, something terrible happened. A perfectly lovely bottle of wine (because isn't all wine lovely, at the end of the day?) got bulldozed. 

It was on the countertop, and I turned left when I should have turned right. Zigged, when I should have zagged? In any case, the damned thing went over, spraying its goodness everywhere, and I dragged it under my tit for a moment before instinctively backing away. Then, crash to the floor. 

It's not the first time something like this has happened, nor will it be the last. It's a strange thing, having to build this instinct in your head that continually informs you of the fact that you've got two orbs of flesh protruding from the front of your body, and that they can be dangerous. Innumerable glasses of water, desktop detritus, and various and sundry electronics have met the same end. This instinct isn't only a matter of preserving my belongings — I won't even get started on the danger that can present itself from leaning over a stovetop too carelessly.

Take the above doorway, for instance. It's a peculiar house, this, and between the kitchen and the living room is this odd sort of hole that's just sort of been carved into the wall. I appreciate it for its aesthetics. I'm sure that it wouldn't meet any sort of civilized construction code if it were put up for scrutiny, but it's short, and narrow, and more often than not, walking through it without paying too terribly much attention can result in a boob smushing into frame, the kinetic energy causing the rest of me to ricochet like a pinball. Fun times. 

In other news, this is my go-to house dress these days. It does make me look fat, but who do I have to impress? Last time I checked, the point of house dresses is to be comfy, easy things you can just kind of slip on, that help preserve some modicum of decency. Bonus points for airflow, thought, and for the funky design. 

Don't be too terribly concerned about the wine, by the way. I tend to keep spares lying around for just such occasions.