This morning, the architect was driving me to work (as he does about once a week – and if I’m good, he’ll pick me up, too!) and we were having a discussion about my grace.
He said that he thought I was much less clumsy now than when we’d first met, and theorized (hypothesized?) that it was due to the double whammy of losing weight (less of me to run into stuff) and becoming more athletic (running + yoga = grace, relatively speaking).
I’m not sure why I thought this conversation was a good idea. Obviously that is how things get jinxed. After arriving at work, I was attempting to hit one of the ‘auto-open’ buttons for a door that was rapidly closing on the woman in front of me. I missed.
I missed because the toe of my boot caught on a rug. I tripped, and that door? The one that was rapidly closing? Was closed when my head got there.
I am so graceful. Graceful like a gazelle. ON CRACK!