My ass smells like bananas.
Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.*
I was so proud of myself for actually sticking to my brand new "Wake up at 4AM to get out of work by 2PM" routine this morning. Things were going well. I had time to shower, shave, find socks without holes in them and even make a smoothie to drink on the way to work.
Now's the part where you put on your 3-D glasses that were given to you on the way in. At some point I confused the contents of my hands and upon trying to start my car, the lid popped off and spilled my morning libation...All. Over. Everything.
Right, so I'm not just clumsy. When I spill it's usually in conjunction with all kinds of other sound effects that imply height and breadth. Splattered is good. As is hurtled and smashed. With a touch of sloshed, gurgled and oozed.
Now of course I've this fabulous sticky sweet concoction permeating all my clothes, the seat of my car, the driveway, the windshield, all the essential operating pedals...the roof. It's dark and cold and there is definitely something in my socks that shouldn't be there. Somehow, my underwear has escaped unscathed.
About an hour delay, many towels and a change of clothes later (alas my socks are holy again) I make it to work. My butt is thankfully not wet but still I'm sure people will wonder why there are whiffs of a produce section whenever I amble by. The fruity aroma was pleasant enough this morning but I can't wait to see what my car smells like this afternoon.
Ah, well. I would be far more annoyed with all this if I wasn't consistently a Genuine Grade-A Clutz. And because if this was an olympic event I'd have scored the gold with this particularly brilliant technique in my car. Twice before already.
*(Anyone care to guess this movie line? Maybe I'll give you a prize...)