Of Stuff Dropped

Of Stuff Dropped

“It’s a nice case.  Slim, pretty.”


“Okay, how about this one?”  My husband turns the screen to show me a sophisticated phone case he wants to add to the online cart.

“I will destroy it.  And the phone.”

He shakes his head and picks up my new mobile phone.  “Wow.  I can’t believe how light this is.  How thin.  It’s really sleek.  Here—try it out.”

“Nope.  I’m not touching it until it’s in a proper case.  I need something sturdy.  And the screen protector needs to be bullet proof.”  I scroll through the online shopping centre options.  “Hey!  I like this!  It looks like something that could fall off a tank.”

He glances at the screen.

“Seriously?  No.  Come on.  This phone is beautiful.  That will completely cover it up.”


I drop stuff.  All the time.  My phone flies out of my hands on a regular basis.  Five screen protectors smashed in 3 1/2 years, the outward facing camera lens busted so I can only take pictures in selfie mode, and multiple scratches has prompted my husband to buy me a new phone.  And I’m terrified to touch it.

He has suggested I have my ears checked for balance issues.  And I always blamed my eyes. Glasses with progressive lenses make great excuses until one gets laser eye surgery and the problem continues.  He tells me I need to pay attention more often.  I can’t argue that logic, but neither can I pay attention consistently.  

I think the real problem is that my brain often can’t compute where my limbs are in space.  This is an actual phenomenon that affects many neurodivergent people and with Tourette Syndrome always running a program in the background of my day to day functioning, it’s quite likely the disconnect lies in its workings.  

Whatever the cause, the effects can be spectacular.

My most recent drop was a few evenings ago.  Fresh from a shower after being not so fresh from a workout, I stood, wrapped in a towel, on the cool bathroom tiles. Fan whooshing above my head, I reached for my newest potion to calm my sensitive skin.  Slathering the cool serum on my face, delighting in the effectiveness I was just expounding to my coworker that very afternoon, the glass bottle leapt out of my hands and plunged to the floor.  As if in slow motion, it arced majestically while “Nooooooooooooo!” projected from my lips.  

It skipped twice then…Crack!

The bottom of the bottle snapped off in a clean break and I watched as my healing balm pooled out onto the floor.  

In a split second I accomplished three things.  One: I ran out of the room and grabbed my water glass from beside my bed.  Two: I picked up the broken bottle and tipped the remainder of the liquid into the water glass.  Three: I considered rubbing my face in what was pooling on the tiles but gave up what was lost.  

Then I cleaned up.  Naked and annoyed, I picked up broken glass, wiped up serum, and chucked the shower rug into the laundry basket.  And closed the door on my dear husband’s face when he came to check on the clattering.  It’s best not to stare.

At least I hadn’t dropped my new phone.

A not so recent spectacular drop occurred last summer.  A July evening.  Delighting in the perfection of a bike ride and the marvels of creation, I was stopped in my tracks by what I imagined was a bald eagle on a post to my left, just before a bend obscured by wildflowers.  Braking, skidding, hopping off my bicycle, calling to my husband ahead, backing up my bike, I wondered what was touching my leg, turned around, sun glared into my progressive-lens sunglasses and I very quickly realized, as I fell forward, that the thing touching the back of my leg was actually my own bike which I had backed up directly behind me.  In an instant I clattered over the frame of my vehicle, over myself, over my dignity and landed chin first on the gravel path.  

In a split second I accomplished three things.  One:  I burst open my face and watched blood pool onto my clothes.  Two:  I saw that the bald eagle was a blue heron who glanced over at me but otherwise didn’t move.  Three:  I realized my spectacular fall was witnessed by a horrified young couple who ran over to me to see if I was alive.

Then I cleaned up.  I yanked off the white shirt I had layered over my tank top and balled it up into a bandage for my face while assuring the youngsters that I was okay.  And I looked up when my dear husband came to check on the clattering.  When I removed my makeshift bandage from my chin, the young man of the now traumatized couple pointed to my face and the blood dripping from it and said, “Um, I think your face is bleeding.”  I told him it’s best not to stare.

Later, at the car, my husband picked gravel out of my face and asked me if I should go to the doctor.  I said no.  A month later there was still sand working its way out of my chin.

Much later again I realized that slips and falls will always be a part of my life—literally and metaphorically.

There are people in my life who need to know something:

I’m sorry I dropped you.  Maybe I wasn’t paying attention and I knocked you from your perch.  More likely you slipped from my fingers and landed in your own life and it cracked you.  Maybe you leapt from my grip.  You know I will salvage what is left, splinters and all, and will work quickly but I have to give up the part that was lost.  At least I saved part of you because I know you can heal.

Or did you trip me?  I’m sure you didn’t mean to slide behind me while I attempted a closer look at something beautiful and rare. But when I turned I was surprised and fell all over myself.  I’m still picking out the gravel.

And I always clean up.

Yeah.  Stuff gets dropped:  face serums, people, me.  We pick up or pick out the pieces and move on.  In the words of the great Tom Petty, “You can look back…but it’s best not to stare.”

And you, dear reader? Are you clumsy? Do you knock stuff, or yourself, over? I would love to hear from you. Comment below.

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4 Replies to “Of Stuff Dropped”

  1. Very well written! For me, I’m not a technically inclined person. Thus I’m the type of person that can easily “mess things up” on a computer and don’t even know how I got into that predicament in the first place. So I have phone computer tech geeks for ‘help!’ 😳🤦‍♀️

    1. Oh I hear ya! Whenever confronted with a technical challenge I am apt to say, “This is stupid, categorically stupid,” and hand the offending tech instrument to my husband. Thanks for sharing! And for reading.

  2. Wife: why won’t you let me cut your hair? All the wives are doing it these days!
    Husband: You’re too clumsy of a person.
    Wife: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
    2 days later… I step on a shoe and proceed to fall, bouncing off of my shelf before hitting the floor.

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