Lifestyle of the clumsy and sleep deprived

Just like the riddle, "which came first....chick or egg," I have to wonder if my clumsy ways are due to the sleep deprivation or if the sleep deprivation is there because I'm so afraid of rolling out of bed while asleep that I freak myself out just enough that I never get to the REM sleep.

You think I'm joking, don't you. Well, two facts remain: I haven't had a full seven hours sleep in about three weeks -- I'm averaging about four, four and a half on the outside. And the stupidest of self-inflicted injuries was added to the list as of Sunday afternoon. While folding laundry.

Which brings me to the post. I was asked tonight, after giving all the sordid details of my latest dumb-fuck move, if I was generally a clumsy person. I quickly answered an emphatic, "No." I mean, we all slam our fingers in the silverware drawer or get papercuts from time to time. So perhaps I answered a bit quickly wanting it to be true, knowing it wasn't. Though I will say that of the Zimmerman girls, I will ALWAYS come in second to my sister who is the undefeated champ in the pissing contest with gravity. The girl nearly broke her collarbone FALLING OFF A STOOL showing someone her new shoes, her head was mistaken for a softball when she was three, she fell off my bed at five (allegedly due to a misplaced chair she was sitting in. Which may or may not have been put there by me. Allegedly.) and split her leg crawling into her apartment through the kitchen window.

.....Ok, so that may have had less to do with gravity and more to do with vodka, but I think you can see how even sober that could have played the same.....

God help us all if I ever manage to defeat her title. But obviously it's not for the lack of trying.

Take for example my attempts: Stepping on razor, barefoot. Being taken for a walk by my Granddad's black lab...through the hedges. Mistakenly putting lip cream on my eyes and eye cream on my lips after a bad sunburn and having my eyes swell shut. Laying in insulation because it looked like cotton candy (by the way, anything that color pink should be edible, not be made up of glass shards.) Punching myself out with a right cross in a group fitness class. Coming up to a red light and stopping my bike precisely next to a pot hole and almost falling off my bike when I set my foot down into it. Introducing my face to a slippery pile of wet rocks, twice.

.....Ok, so that may have had less to do with gravity and more to do with beer, but I think you can see how even sober that could have played the same.....

and my latest feeble attempt....Nearly breaking my wrist slamming down on the back of couch frame. I'm brilliant I tell ya, brilliant. I now realize my previous answer tonight must be retracted and, "Yes, yes I am clumsy" must be noted for the record.

Don't think for a hot second that I don't appreciate what hasn't happened to me, self-inflicted or other, because I know damn well there are much worse things out there. Please, please, know that I don't need to experience any of them. Not when I can just go ask my sister.

And you can keep the belt, sis. I don't want to defeat title.

Hold on Dorothy, Oz is just around the next bend

Miss me? I've been around, just not able to collect my thoughts long enough to post. I've been feeling a bit like Dorothy caught in the tornado on her way to waking up in Oz. When last you checked in with the Pen Test site, I was feeling the effects of gigantic plastic mugs of PBR. Since then I've been finalizing some details. I can finally announce that it's finished. I am moving.

I wish I could announce it was to the other side of the Pond, but not yet. However, I'm proud to share that I have found a new apartment (in Chicago). I know the six readers I have may understand why that's a big deal, maybe not, but many of you who I have not yet met (and I do hope there are at least 15 of you) may wonder what the hell the big deal is? People move all the time. Well, not this people. That's why I feel a little like Dorothy.

It's been seven years that I've lived in my Lincoln Square apartment. My home. I've had laughs and heartbreak, hangovers and recoveries, dinners and board games, showers and fights here. I've watched one occupant leave and another replace him. I've shared many a sorrow and made more memories than seem possible. If the walls could talk, I'd be in trouble. It's time to leave and I think dwelling in this one place for as long as I have, while unexpected, was necessary. There's been a good deal of truth and reality had here, it's time to take the lessons and put them to use. In my own space. White walls, ready to soak up my new experiences like paint. I've never lived alone and while it seems daunting to spend even more time with myself, I can't wait.

Corri, I have loved having you as my roommate and friend. Somehow Porch Counsel has to find a way to continue. There's a special place in my heart for you and I know the reason for our move is a good one; Congratulations on the engagement! And while he's a boy, Scott will make an even better roommate than me. Come visit me in Oz sometime....