File under "What was I thinking?"

"... the worst idea in the long, sad history of bad ideas."

— Dr. Ian Malcolm in Jurassic Park

I'm sure I'm not alone when it comes to those bursts of self-directed anger and frustration over the myriad bad ideas I inflict on myself throughout any given year.

I'm not talking BIG bad ideas... like buying an automobile from a salesman in flood-ravaged Louisiana, or trying to walk two miles in 4 inch heels. I'm talking about the small and maddening bad ideas that I seem to indulge with alarming frequency.

Like thinking I can hold a heavy tray of glasses in one hand, a carafe of iced tea in the other, and then open the screen door with my left foot without all of us (me, the carafe, and the glasses) ending up on our knees on the patio in various states of disrepair.  Or thinking the paint can I'm holding will balance on a too-narrow window ledge for the 3 seconds it takes me to reach for a smaller brush. Or doubting it's windy enough to blow the front door closed (and locked) behind me in the time it takes to collect the mail.... in my nightdress.  Those kinds of bad ideas. 

When these witless notions come to me, the cautionary train of thought that runs through my alleged mind in the milisecond between  bad idea  and  horrible consequence  usually runs something like this:

"I shouldn't be doing this.  Just take the extra time...."  

The time it takes to bring a tray and a carafe outdoors in two trips instead of one.
The time it takes to go out the side door which needs a key and won't lock behind me.
The time it takes to bring a paint can down the ladder with me.

Sadly, these wise urgings fall on deaf inner ears making the post-disaster irritation I experience so much more pointed. Because I knew better.

I have stood in everything from pools of water (mismanaging the time it takes to fill a watering can from a rain barrel) to shards of china (trying to carry too many cups and saucers to the sink at one time). I have ruined nightdresses and slippers thinking I could dash out to the dustbin and back again and still remain pristine, despite the previous night's heavy rain. I have burned myself, cut myself, fallen down stairs and dropped things on myself. I have placed jewelry on the edge of sinks, carried one too many boxes of ornaments down the stairs, carried full platters of food from the kitchen whilst attempting to operate the lightswitch with my pinkie finger.  None of these efforts ended prettily.

Yes... the long, sad history of bad ideas is peppered liberally with my own humble contributions.  And until my daily life comes equipped with glaring yellow caution signs, this will no doubt continue to be the case.