It’s not that I try to screw up. Who tries to be so glaringly imperfect? It takes little effort to make such frequent mistakes. It simply comes naturally. I don’t wake up and think “what can I ruin today?” It just…happens.
It’s not often the big things that I get wrong. I’m trying my best with my kids, so I don’t think I’ve wrecked them, yet. I’ve never been the driver in a car accident; I’ve never even gotten a ticket, speeding, parking, or otherwise. I’ve never poisoned anyone or (knock on wood) gotten fired from a job. It’s not the big things I ruin, it’s just everything else.
I shrink clothes, for example, so I’ve banned myself from ever using anything but the cool setting on the dryer. And not just any item of clothing. I don’t shrink pajamas or lounging-around-the-house clothes. I shrink my favourite, brand new items. Or lose an essential button. I’m always losing buttons.
I bought some movies last week. We watch movies as a family (that’s sort of our thing), and so I’m always on the lookout for ones we would all enjoy together. The Santa Clause is one I’ve been wanting to own for ages. It’s one of my favourite Christmas movies and right up the alley of what we could watch as a family and no one would feel we’re being ripped off of two hours of our lives. But did you know that the only The Santa Clause that is available on Blu-ray is the third one? Disney, please tell me why the third one is the only one available on Blu-ray. But I’m alright with watching DVD, so I bought all three in a gift pack. A few clicks, a day’s wait, and we’re three Christmas movies richer.
But then I unwrap the pack and see that they’re not the right format. This is where I messed up. It’s not the end of the world, it’s not even that big of a deal, but on our television the format received is not the format in which we watch movies. But I unwrapped the pack. I probably just flushed thirty-five of my hard-earned dollars directly down the drain.
I’m going to try to return them. I filled out the proper on-line form, printed out the mailing label, and I’ll buy a box and send them back. Either they keep them and return my money, or they send them back and I’ve paid for three movies I never should have bought. They’ll probably return them to me because I opened the outer package. Once again, I blew it.
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
(The best laid schemes of Mice and Men
oft go awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!) AMIRITE?!?
This is not the end of the world. It’s just one minor bump in a long line of mess-ups that make me feel like I’m sliding into a quarry pit filled with quicksand. I feel like with every tiny misstep, the whole world is following behind, not to catch my fall or to pick me up after I land, but to glare at me as they continue its list of evidence proving that I am, after all, just a f*&k up.
And it’s not that I’ve done one big thing that I can say “see? I destroyed that.” It’s all little tiny things that anyone else would blow off with a so what? The tea wasn’t quite hot enough last night? So what. Maybe not quite sweet enough? Who cares? The pieces of cake were maybe a fraction of a centimeter too big? Get over it. You forgot bleach when you washed the sheets? BURN THEM IN A FIRE. No seriously, who cares. But it adds up in my head, and in my head, it adds up in everyone else’s heads.
I can’t do anything right, is what it boils down to, and therefore, I am useless. I shouldn’t be in charge of people or doing things or cleaning things or making things or buying things or remembering things. I should have people do things, clean things, make things, buy things, and remember things for me and that’s not me being lazy. That’s the only way all of the things won’t get ruined.
My best laid schemes don’t oft go awry; they always do. My best intentions are tarnished by my inability to do anything at all right. And who am I kidding? They really, never stood a chance.