The completion gene

So the completion gene strikes again. What's the completion gene, you ask? Well, it's that ever so important, ever so tiny gene inside you, which causes you to complete actions and or tasks the right way. When you are missing it, you do all kinds of dumb things, like, (and these are all hypothetical, of course), knock your kneecap on the table leg while scooting your chair into the kitchen table, or whacking your funny bone, hard, on the bathroom counter while blow drying your hair, or tripping over shoes that are in plain sight, or whacking your forehead on the visor of your car while sliding into the driver's seat. Basically, lacking the completion gene will cause you to unavoidably hurt yourself in unpredictable and oftentimes unusual ways, but probably very frequently.

Okay, so the completion gene is really totally made up by my fancy pants brother in law who is studying to become a doctor. He maintains that a certain sister of mine (okay, his wife) and me, and possibly others of our family, suffer from a missing completion gene. I guess I should be flattered that he's trying to explain away my apparent clumsiness/danger to myself and or others by medical means. Thanks, Steven, it's a compassionate approach, and really quite noble. But really, I think I'm just downright klutzy.

All those hypothetical examples I cited up top? Okay, I admit. I have done all those things, quite recently, actually. And a lot of the injuries I cause to myself happen in the kitchen, of all places... not just the knocked kneecap...need I remind you about the past injuries I have sustained at the hands of...my own self. I've got no one to blame for the frozen meat which I dropped on my foot, breaking my baby toe, and also no one to blame for slicing almost all the way through my hand with a very sharp knife while cutting an avocado. And now I also have no one to blame for...

...grating the knuckle of my thumb completely off on one side with my microplane.

I'm not prone to use expletives, nevertheless, I know some choice words that would have conveyed my sentiments pretty well when it happened. Also, my knuckle looks disgusting. And if you've never seen grated human flesh on the underside of your microplane, count yourself lucky, because, let's just say, it ain't pretty. Unfortunately, I looked, and now that image is seared in my memory forever. Uugghh. Let's shiver in horror together. I'll shiver again on my own because every time I look at my thumb I'm reminded. And every time I try to bend my thumb at the knuckle I'm reminded too. Ouch.

I need to be more careful, I know. But I really wish I wasn't missing the completion gene.