I’m a bit of mess. A total scatterbrain. And a klutz. And a spinster. But it’s okay. I’m totally aware of it. It’s terrible to live all clichédly, but there are times when I think I need to adapt my life into a book or a screenplay so that I can capture some tiny events in a form other than a little-read blog or Twitter feed.

Like yesterday, when I discovered that the lid on a bottom of Purell (to tell the truth, a generic equivalent – and I hadn’t bought the stuff in years until I had to go straight from bowling to pub quiz) had come off in my bag. I also had a pack of minty gum in there. This mean the inside of my bag smelled like Listerine/not unlike some of the cinemas’ more aggressive panhandlers who get too drunk to buy real booze and instead hit the pharmacy’s dental supply shelf.

Lovely.

I’ve also had experiences like trying to de-stink shoes with baking soda overnight, then forgetting to dump the powder out before putting the shoes on, not noticing my mistake until, say, I arrive at someone’s house. Or the chiropractor reminds me that we’re doing a fitting for orthotics that day. Having slightly clumpy white powder on your feet looks really, really great and not all disgusting.

I’m not one for forgetting about a pot bubbling away on the stove (probably because I’m hungry enough to watch it constantly), but I have spent a week at work staring at my computer monitor because I’ve forgotten my glasses every morning. In (at least) one case, I had put them in my bag, then decided to bring a different bag with me, but didn’t complete the transfer of essential things. Like the things that help me see.

I’ve also walked by a café, seen friends inside, and walked in only to slip and fall on the floor, spilling the contents of my purse and bruising my ego (and arse) in the process. I walked into a parking sign once, years ago, tried to exit a bus, only to have the bus door close on my foot, trapping my shoe, and have hurt my back pushing a kid on a swing, sitting on the couch watching tv, and, most frequently, sleeping.

It’s all rather embarrassing, but I thought think (other) people remember these things. Much. But some have been so ridiculous that OCCASIONALLY, I wish that they had been recorded in some way. It would be, like, the mildest episode of ‘Jackass’ ever (‘will she get the soy sauce-to-wasabi-paste ratio wrong today and leak snot on her sashimi?’). Or like a maybe actually funny ‘Just for Laughs Gags’ (seriously, HOW the HELL is that show still on?). Or maybe just a couple of scenes in a new, lousy rom-com, probably starring Katherine Heigl (she’s in so many of them), which will make my glorious klutzy forgetfulness even less charming. Maybe the male lead will play the neurologist she needs after hitting her head against the wall behind the couch (again) from throwing it back while laughing at something on ‘The Simpsons’. People would watch that, right?

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Speaking of romantic comedies, I watched Salmon Fishing in the Yemen yesterday. It is nice and charming and made me terribly homesick (for Scotland) and terribly jealous of Emily Blunt. I mean, Ewan McGregor and Tom Mison? Then you go home to John Krasinski? Damn you.

But it was fun. Kristin Scott Thomas was phenomenally vile too, which was an unexpected bonus.