It’s after all my mother was one to never lie. But I am ham-fisted.
Both physically and intellectually.
I made a life skill of tripping over things, I couldn’t catch to save myself and you could guarantee that if I walked across a room I’d bump into something.
That made my life hell as a kid growing up. I was always the last picked for any team game the captain groaning as he pointed to me when there was no one else to select. I became very good at playing left right out.
One time they asked me to stand in goal as there was not much chance the ball would come to that end of the field. So the most part I stood there sucking in the air dreaming of what I might achieve should the ball come my way. A step to the right, arm extended, a deflection, goal saved, I’m a hero.
The reality was, ball coming, panic, no muscle wanted to listen to the other, ball struck, wrong arm extends, ball flies into net, team decries my incompetence, and I’m left to suffer their derision.
On another occasion, I was asked to speak in a debate. All prepared, notes at the ready, called to the rostrum, notes mysteriously were jumbled, made no sense, the audience laughed, my mind was more and more fuddled, sat down, disgraced myself and in my head was NEVER AGAIN.
So ham-fistedness has plagued me all my life. You name it, and I have stuffed it up in one way or another. As for relationships don’t get me started. I think apart from my dysfunctional ham-fisted marriage the prospect of a connection with me has terrified all women who have contemplated such a thing with me.
At least living the single life, I’m the only who sees my latest ham-fusted effart.