The clumsiest fucking week of my life

This week was the clumsiest fucking week of my life. Let me break it down for you, bit by excruciating bit:

Great on your nails, not on your carpet.

Thursday: I'm lying on the couch, painting my nails the brightest fucking 80s blue you can possibly imagine. I get too comfortable, reach over to the coffee table to do a one-handed brush dip, when the bottle dives off of the table like Greg Louganis, flips three times and lands in two blue puddles on our beige carpet. I slow panic, quickly Google "How to get nail polish out of carpet", run for the ShamWows and Totally Awesome Carpet Cleaner. A quick prayer and lots of scrubbing later, I managed to get the carpet clean.

Friday: K comes home from work and we decide to have a few beers. I'm lying on the couch in the same place I was when I was painting my nails, we're watching a very intense end of Season 8 episode of X Files in which Scully is trying to save her alien baby from being abducted, I reach for my beer and it (naturally) leaps onto the carpet in the EXACT same spot that the nail polish was in. (It's like rain on your wedding day, yes?)

Miracle cleaner from Jesus.

Saturday: Driving down to my sister's engagement party, K and I stop at Subway for some noms after a long conversation during which we vow not to eat McDonalds and drink beer in the same day ever again. We get in the car and bring our pop with us, tucking it into the poorly designed cupholders of the 2000 Ford Focus. I go to hand the pop to K, he butterfingers it, and I drop the cup and its entire contents onto his white sweatshirt and jeans.

Truly, it's a wonder that I made it out alive.

Chocolate FAIL.

Yesterday, I was laying on the couch, fervently plugging away at my website while enjoying some delicious Valentine's chocolates that K had given me, when suddenly I looked down and realized that I had chocolate ALL OVER ME.  Like not just a smear or two. A 2-inch square of melted chocolate welded to my beautiful new stark white northface that K had gotten me for Christmas. Also, the entire underside of my chin was covered in my melty Valentine's treats.

K is like Nostradamus. He knew this would happen. That's why he got me 2 northfaces for Christmas, one black and one white. The white one was supposed to be for non-chocolate activities. Fail.

There's a reason he knew this would happen: I'm the messiest person on the planet. No, seriously. If I had a meal-to-spill ratio, it would be 1,000,000. Or .000001. I don't know, I'm really bad at math. But it would be huge. Because literally not a meal goes by that I don't spill all over myself.

There was one night when I was sitting on the couch with S & J (sister and her bf) watching TV. It was after Thanksgiving, so we were eating leftover pie with a mound of whipped cream on top. I went to cut a piece of pie off with my fork and... wait for it... flipped the ENTIRE PIECE OF PIE, whipped cream and all, onto my chest. It just stuck there. And I made a pouty face. My sister (such a sweetheart, that one) took PICTURES, while I laid there all pouty with a plate of pie stuck to my chest.

Another night, I was eating a brownie fudge sundae (we love our desserts in this house), just hangin' with Bedtime Bear on the couch, when I looked down and realized I had smeared chocolate all over my bear's face. S & J were witness to this as well. They know all of my dirty secrets.

K and I have already agreed that at our wedding we're going to wear those plastic bibs that you get when you eat lobster at a fancy restaurant. All night. I want the ones with the cartoon lobster on them, too.

I will tell you this, though-- by the time we have kids, I'm going to be a laundry EXPERT. No grass, chocolate, or even poop will survive my washing skills, because I have been carefully trained by the most savvy of masters: K. He has taught me everything he knows, and last night he coached me on the phone as I did CPR on my northface under the most stressful of conditions. Thank goodness K stays calm under pressure, because I thought I was going to have a breakdown.