Fine Motor Disaster

I've mentioned before how I developed a particular system of checks and balances (or imbalances...'tomayto'/'tomahto'), which I run through upon waking each morning.

Hear the alarm?  Ears - check!  See clearly, or almost clearly...with both eyes?  Eyes - check!  Move legs?  Check!  Does the room stay still when I stand?  Vestibular proficiency - check!  Make it to the bathroom in time?  Bladder - check!  I then give thanks to the Lord and begin my day.

...even when one or more of those checks don't work out the way I'd like, I still give thanks and begin the day.  Meh.

But some things can't be checked off right away.  Take 'fine motor skills', for example.

I find that out when I try to peel open my giant bag of Dunkin' and I...brace yourself.............CAN'T!  These are the days I wish I could just call out.  Why not go to Dunkin' on the way to work for my coffee?  Because I'm not going to be able to fish my debit card out of the small pouch in my purse.  Not going to be able to peck the change from my cupholder.  Yes, I meant to say 'peck'...because that's the motion I make with my hand while in a state of 'Fine Motor Disaster'.

Today's outfit for work?  Was the shirt with the giant buttons, which I got sick of dealing with by the time I finished.  It took me approximately 5 minutes to latch my necklace.  I nearly gave up and decided my boss knew me well enough by this point that I could ask her to help me.  Then, I realized I've only been there about 6 weeks.  Something I didn't hesitate to do at my previous job - asking a fellow teacher or boss to put my necklace on for me - has the potential to be slightly awkward in a new environment.  No, I didn't get it latched...but I did get the hook over the chain, which meant it kept sliding throughout the day as I moved.  In addition, I had to remove my thumb ring and nearly took my wedding rings off.  Though they spun freely, the sensation of having them on my fingers was of 'death grip' level.

And seriously?  Who designed the aluminum seal on yogurt cups with that tiny tab.  No thanks to that person, I wore a portion of my french vanilla yoplait...after I couldn't get it open and became frustrated, thereby mauling it with a pen.

Let's talk about writing!  I had a form to complete at work.  A form with tiny blocks.  Lots. Of. Them. I totally squinted my eyes in concentration, chewed on my tongue, tilted my head in 52 directions, and slowwwwwly pressed pen to paper - circa 1978.  Let me confess...my handwriting was also circa 1978.  Suddenly, I began to covet a gigantic pen.  I mean, how easy would life be if I had a gigantic pen?  Writing would be easier.  Yogurt would be easier.  It would command respect in the workplace.  It would make the following statement:

"This woman has a gigantic pen...and she's not afraid to use it!"

Get on my level.