Clumsiness Thy Name is Frog

Frogs are incredibly adaptable creatures, adjusting perfectly well to high-end diva lifestyle (ehem, yes please, bring on the caviar) or very basic monastic existence. However, due to their fundamental ground-level rotundity (better to spy with my dear), it can make them rather clumsy at times, thereby losing their dexterity and elegance and becoming more toady in the process. What am I leading up to with these metaphors? Ever since my shoulder injury last July, the right side of my body has serious limitations that are proving to be very frustrating.

Fundamental rotundity ©FrogDiva Photography

Ladders have always been my most valuable accessories / gadgets / utilities in the house. It is impossible for me to survive in a German apartment or house without a stepping stool plus two different sized ladders, especially now that I do not have full use of my shoulder and arm to reach up for things. Impatience is my middle name, so there are times that I would rather not use the ladder for the sake of expediency, against my better judgement. As a result, in the last four months I have broken numerous glasses, mugs, plates, bowls, jars and bottles in the process, not to mention that on bad days I am clumsier than my oldest cat Lolita and knock over assorted liquids with alarming frequency. The only thing that sets me apart from my potty old cats at the moment is that I have managed to avoid setting myself on fire.

There is an old German saying that says shards bring good luck (Scherben bringen Glück), well if that is the case and there is any truth to this, then I should be rolling in good luck! Most of the broken items are inconsequential and don´t really bother me. But when I lost my grip on a new delivery of Australian Shiraz my heart was as shattered as the bottle. The kitchen floor looked as if a brutal murder has just been committed, and the look of horror on my two cats was priceless. My only consolation is that it was not the South African Pinotage that had met such a cruel fate…

After cleaning up the crime scene, airing the apartment for a few hours, lighting candles and essential oils, my home still smelled like a bar at 2:00am filled with drunken customers. Ugh. It took three days to get rid of the aroma and the cats did their best to help by pooping as stinkily as they could! Summary: I have torn ligaments and damaged nerves, and have to live with the limitations and pain for the next year or so. Grrrrr. My hand shakes from time to time, and photographing one-handed on the fly is out of the question for now. Double grrrrrr. Now where did I leave my transfiguration wand?

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