Matching fingers

I’m not usually clumsy. Oh, sure, I’ve fallen out of trees, out of a parked car (yes, alcohol was involved), off bicycles, up stairs and down, slipped in puddles, burned myself ironing, jammed fingers in various doors… you get the idea.

Last night, I managed to flick hot oil onto the first knuckle of my right index finger. That hurt. A lot. Came up in a rather unattractive dark pink. I was also carving some meat and the knife slipped. Yep, you guessed it. Took a chunk out of… the first knuckle of my left index finger. They match nicely now.

The worst of it is, I thought at the time: “be careful turning the fritters, it will splash hot oil.” Did I listen? ‘Course not. I also thought: “be careful with that knife, it will slip and you’ll cut yourself.” Did I listen? ‘Course not.

We all do it. We know we’re inviting disaster but go ahead anyway, then curse up a storm when the expected happens. How many times have you done the dumb thing and paid the price? Fortunately, the damage is minor, though painful.

It so easy to do; and so easy to incorporate into any story you happen to be writing. Why write about this kind of embarrassment? Because it adds humanity to your characters. Readers will nod their heads sagely, “oh, yeah, I’ve done that”. It’s another dimension to your character building, both fictionally and in reality.

I’m now waiting for the third disaster, because you know it gonna happen.