From todays Butterfinger files:
I knocked over an open bottle of white vinegar spilling it all over the stove. While cleaning up, I knocked a bottle of Worcestershire sauce off of a high shelf. It hit me in the chest before shattering on the counter top. Luckily it was "thick-style" so the shattering glass was contained. A couple hours later, I dropped the mayonnaise, had a tea-brewing accident, and knocked Andy on the head with a heavy-bottomed glass, giving him a knot. No one and nothing is safe in my hands.
When I share this information I am invariably accused of being one of two things: drunk or pregnant. Don't try to pretend you weren't thinking the same thing. Truthfully, I am neither, nor am I not a klutz. I don't fall down- although I do walk into things and frequently cut myself while chopping vegetables. I am dangerous with a knife. Mostly I'm a dropper, a Butterfingers, especially of things made of glass. This Christmas I was pulling out a Pyrex measuring cup and dropped it on the granite counter top causing it to shatter into thousands of tiny shards. Some of the shrapnel flew up into my pinky giving me a deep cut that left a scar. How normal is it that glass should be flying through the air in my house? When my mother-in-law learned of this accident all she said was, "Good thing the coffee cake was covered."
Because of my Butterfinger Syndrome, my husband has taken to serving me wine in plastic cups. It has come to that! I can't say that I blame him. I've broken at least 6 wines glasses since Christmas, including one my husband considered unbreakable. In my hands, nothing is unbreakable.