I'm clumsy!

Gremlins, I have a serious problem... I was taking a shower today and I realized I had lots and lots of bruises, and I couldn't remember how I got them.
I mean, I know I hit myself everyday with something, but this is just bad!

I remember when I was a kid my mom used to count all the bruises I had on my legs to let me know I was playing too rough, and that I had to behave more girly; sometimes, we would count between 20 and 30 bruises on each leg!

I suppose my childhood was harder on my mom than on me; I remembered I had lots of fun, but I also remembered that I got grounded a lot.
Since I'm a geek girl (and have always been) I used to hang out more with boys than with girls (and I still do), meaning I would also play sports with boys like soccer, basketball and even football, instead of playing with Barbies and other dolls with girls my own age.

And, to make my mother's life even more difficult, I had ADHD. I guess that's why my parents decided to put my brothers and I in different sports all day: tennis, swimming, golf, karate, soccer... you name it, I've played it. And since that didn't tire her little girl down, she also had to put me in art classes, ballet, jazz and other dancing classes. But it still didn't work; I would get home, get all my homework done and still have enough energy to play Nintendo for hours.

Yes. My mom's life must've been very very difficult with me around. Sorry mom!

As a result of my constant lack of sleepiness, I have become somewhat... clumsy. I always, ALWAYS hit myself with tables, chairs, beds and the occasional wall. My eyesight is perfect (I got an eye surgery two years ago) but I can't seem to measure the distance between the wall and me.

And not only that, but I always drop, break, burn or flood stuff.

When I was about 17 years old and was living with my grandmother, we (my older brother, a cousin and I) burned one of her tables. BY ACCIDENT! Don't get mad audience! Here me out: we were going to make a barbecue and we bought this easy, small portable barbecue grill that came with it's charcoal and fire and metal stuff; in other words, you opened it, start it up and began cooking the meat.
It looked like a great idea for a couple of teenagers, so we just grabbed a small table to put it on and took it outside so we wouldn't leave the house smelling like smoke ('cause she lived in an apartment). Smart idea so far, right? We wouldn't stench the house, we wouldn't use any of her cooking accessories, and she would never find out (because she had left on a trip).
But our stupid teenager minds did not think of the following:

Yes... we set the table on fire. BUT, we bought her a new one... So... don't get mad!

There was another time, when I was already in college, that my grandmother called me to help her out because she was going to move to the apartment below. I lived 40 minutes away, so I took a bus and got there as quick as I could.
My parents were already there (on vacation) and so were my brothers. Remember how I wrote about me not being able to handle boxes? Well, my family noticed and gave me other stuff to help out with.
One of those things was a basket filled with glass jars and vases. By this time in my life, I knew I was clumsy.

Me: Mom... Can I help with other stuff?
Mom: Why?
Me: Because I'm going to break these.
Mom: No, you're not.
Me: Oh, yes I am.
Mom: Don't be silly, just be careful where you step and it will be alright.
Me: Mom, you don't understand: I drop things really easily, even if I'm cautious. It's like a spell!
Mom: Honey, don't be ridiculous. Go and help your grandma with the basket.
Me: But mooooom, I don't wanna.
Mom: It's either that or boxes. Your pick.
Me: ...
Mom: Well?
Me: But I'm going to break them and grandma is going to get piiiiiiissseeeed!
Mom: Don't say that!
Me: Sorry, but it's true!
Mom: Honey, you'll be fine. I trust you.

She shouldn't have. I would have to travel, with a basket, filled with tons and tons of glass vases, down the stairs.

It took me nearly 10 minutes to walk down the stairs. My brothers would pass right beside me over and over again, carrying boxes, while I was stuck with a stupid basket, filled with glass vases and jars. But I was too scared, almost sure that I was going to fall and break everything, so I decided to take my time: tiny baby steps, one at a time.

Just as I reached the floor, I congratulated myself for not breaking anything. I was so happy, I actually began to think my mother was finally right; all her hopes and dreams about me being careful had finally come true. But as soon as I came close to the door... whoopsy-daisy!

I tripped over the door's step! A tiny door step! WHY WOULD A DOOR HAVE A FREAKING STEP!? All the jars fell to the floor, and grandma did get pissed.
See Mom? You should've listened to your daughter! But noooo, you had to go on believing in me, thinking I was capable of handling the glass jars. Oh mom... I love you for thinking I can do great things.


Anyways, just as I am writing this, I burned my breakfast. I forgot my toaster's timer doesn't work and it keeps toasting for ever and ever until you stop it. There goes my toast bread.
And this isn't the first time; when I was in middle school I almost burned my house down: I wanted to make myself a pizza, so I put it in the microwave and hit 30:00 minutes instead of 3:00.

Yellow smoke was what alarmed me (surprisingly not the smell), and I ran towards the kitchen, opened the microwave, burned my tiny hands and put all the crisped mass into the sink.
How have I managed to stay alive all these years? I have no clue. But I have to thank God for that; He's just awesome for letting me live!

Want to read another one? It's also about my grandma! (I'm amazed to see how she still manages to love me).
A couple of months ago, I went to visit her and my cousins (who also live with her and my older brother). Hours passed and everyone fell asleep, but not me (ADHD). So, I decided to take a long, hot shower to get my body all relaxed and ready to sleep.
I was in the shower for about 20 minutes or so, and when I shut the water off and opened the door... MADNESS! There was water all over the bathroom!

The thing about her bathroom is that it has two floor drains: one in the shower and one in the outside floor of the shower. They are both connected. And for some strange reason, the water went from the shower's drain into the outside floor's drain.

I quickly put some clothes on and opened the bathroom's door to go get a mop. And then, surprise surprise! There was even MORE water, all over the apartment's floor! And everybody was asleep!

It took me nearly two and a half hours to clean everything without waking people up. I was like a freaking ninja, a mopping ninja.

But, yeah. I have no idea why this happens all the time. My mom says it's because I don't pay enough attention to what I'm doing, but I blame my ADHD. It just has to be it, right?