My father always called me grace. If there was a corner or edge, I would hit it. If there was a doorframe, I had a new bruise on my shoulder. Moved furniture? Broken toes. I could hit the same place, the same object, numerous times. I never learned. I have absolutely no idea where that bruise came from.
We moved boxes yesterday. I haven’t gotten my furniture, yet.
When I was younger, I had a Great Dane. If there was an animal I could compare myself to, that is the animal. Big and clumsy. I am guessing quite unaware of its own size. Always bumping into everything. That is me. I’m a Great Dane . A Great Dane named Grace.
That is where I fell yesterday.
Still waiting on most of the colors to show up. I may need to be bubble wrapped before my next attempt at moving.