I am a klutz.
When we were in Jacksonville, going for a walk... I fell. Unfortunately it was down a slight hill, covered in gravel. I had to grab Scott's leg to keep from falling further. In the process of sliding through the gravel... I banged up my elbow and my knee on one side. I had only had one drink so I didn't think alcohol was to blame. Scott didn't believe me.
So I had to go and prove it.
By falling off our back deck.
Now... you have to keep in mind that the decks are not technically finished yet. There are no steps down the side I was on, so most of the time I just hop off. (We're only talking about 2 feet down, max.) But since my knee was still a little sore, I thought I would hop from the deck, to the lava rock pile that runs behind the deck, and then down to the ground.
Instead of landing on a solid rock... the one I picked shifted. And down I went, taking the rock with me. The result? A 3-inch oozy scratch down my inner thigh, just above the knee. And some really pretty bruises all the way from mid-thigh to mid-calf. Apparently I my scream as I went down really freaked out the neighbors, too... and Scott came running to see what happened. Someone was nice enough to point out that the colors of the bruise match my favorite tie-dyed shirt. Isn't that special?
I accomplished this feat with no alcohol involved.
Therefore, I am a klutz.