I’m hyper-sensitive to gravity. I stumble, trip, slip and falter more than the normal person. This week, too, I’ve taken to dropping stuff. Not just a simple slip-of-the-fingers, though. Huge, indelicate acts of gracelessness.

I reach for a pen and it slips our of my hand, flying across the office. I thrust my hand forward to grab it and I upset a glass of water and the pen-holder. I grab for the papers the water is about to ruin and I knock over a stack of shoeboxes, which fall onto the adding machine, which spews adding tape everywhere. My boss walks in. What happened? Well. I needed a pen.

And my luck with pistachio donuts from Balthazar has been exceptionally foul this week. Of the three pistachio donuts I’ve acquired, I’ve been able to eat 1.75. That’s not very good. In fact, that’s just barely more than 58%. How the hell is your margin of error so high on eating DONUTS, Mallory? you ask! They’re the least confrontational of all treat-food, you tell me!

I know, people. I know. Trust me, it’s not like I dropped the donuts deliberately. It was more like it was when my sister and I were kids and we’d run around slapping things out of one another’s hands. The other day, my bag ripped open. And the donut fell out in slow motion onto the sidewalk. The dirty Spring Street sidewalk. My WHOLE dobut. Just– crrrrch! Bag ripped open, donut plunged to the ground. Bounced twice. Rolled. Landed pistachio frosting side up. Moment of silence, everyone. That was my afternoon snack.

Then this morning my last bite of donut literally fell out of my mouth. I did not miss. I did not drop it en route. I had it through my lips, and it propelled itself forward with a force as though someone had smacked me upside the back of my head , off the tips of my fingers as I howled “NoOoOo!!” The donut bit ended up on the ground. Passersby looked at me like I was  a total idiot. “Didn’t she have it IN HER MOUTH?” their silent eyes mocked me.

To reward myself for not crying either time, however, I allowed myself Five Guys for lunch. And since I didn’t spill any of THAT on my white shirt, I’m allowing myself ice cream on my second break. Who knows, perhaps Gravity– my nemesis– has taken the day off.

Don’t want to jinx it, though. So I won’t be grabbing another pistachio donut anytime soon.