Underestimation

I underestimate things.

This fact was called to my attention the other night at Gadsby's Tavern. I had just sat down to dinner with my Mom, Grandmother, Aunt and Aunt's friend Judy. After looking over the menu, I reached for the bread. I correctly estimated the distance between my hand and the bread, and was able to get a piece without a hitch. However, apparently my depth perception abilities decrease when objects are moving towards me rather than away. When I brought back my hand to put the bread on my plate, I underestimated the distance. With a resounding clank, my elbow hit my pewter plate and made a gigantic crashing noise.

Yes, patrons, you have me to thank for ruining your quiet night.

Today I continued underestimating:

• The space between the pantry and the kitchen door. I have one stubbed toe to prove it.
• The height of the shelf in my bathroom. I have one bump on my head to prove it.
• The slippery-ness (is that a word) of a washed vegetable. I have one bruised avacado to prove it.
• How much nail polish remover can fit in the cap of the bottle without it's overflowing. I have one very potent-smelling room to prove it. (Or maybe that's overestimating?)
• The amount of food I can consume in one weeks time. I have the muffin-tops to prove it.

I also underestimated the amount of time it would take me to write this post. I have one overly-cooked pot of pasta to prove it.