Don't Call Me Grace
I've had to admit to myself that I'm just not a graceful person. In fact, I'm a world-class klutz. Accident prone. Frequently bumping my way around a room, running into walls and furniture for no good reason at all. Freak run-ins with potentially harmless objects, usually leaving a mark somewhere on myself as a reminder later. Something I can laugh about later, when the pain subsides.

So it was not unusual to me today to have a bit of a scuffle with a seemingly non-dangerous envelope, ending with a bloody cut on my lip. One would think I was in a fight of some sort, and on the losing end at that. But no. I simply tried to innocently lick an envelope, and was rewarded with a lovely paper cut on the edge of my lip to wear for the rest of the day. It smarts, but only when I open my mouth. Or close it. Or try to drink or eat something. Or do nothing.

You see, I've always been talented like that. It's a gift, I guess.

I'd laugh about it, but my smile is injured. By the papercut.

C.T.