There is a Learning Curve

​Yes, there is a learning curve. It might be a small one. It may be hard to detect. You could find it disappearing at times, only to suddenly miraculously reappear. It’s there. It exists.
 
Proof exists in the life of the klutz. For those of you familiar with this column, I am the lifetime award winner of the “El Kutzo Award,” which is given to a member of my family for our ability to knock something over or hurt our bodies inadvertently in the simplest and stupidest of ways. Typically I am at the top of the El Klutzo standings, with my two brothers battling for the title.

If memory serves me correctly, the last time I wrote on this subject, the topic was my finger hooking inside the coffee cup finger holder and me yanking a full cup on my desk, spiling its contents onto papers, pens, business cards, CDs and various other items scattered about the surface. I probably invented some new curse words at the time, and vowed never to do it again.

So far, not fully spilling a cup of coffee is a fact. The truth is in the word “fully.”
 
Vowing at the time of the last disaster to never let the curly finger hook and tip the cup, I drove the message into my head: “Be careful. Go slowly. Think about what you’re doing. Remember to pick up the cup slowly and remove your finger with care.” With repetitive internal coaching, I followed these personal messages.
 
There were close calls several times. They served as reminders. Nothing spilled for months.
 
We now get back to the word “fully.” The entire cup of coffee has not fully spilled on my desk.
 
Two weeks ago, following my perfected routine not to dump the ENTIRE contents of a hot coffee cup on my desktop, I picked up the morning java, sip and savored. Put it down. Felt the telltale tug of the hook from the finger. Stopped myself. Watched the coffee jostle, like the water in a pool on a cruise ship as the water built waves and slogged from one side of the other to overlap the edges.

I watched in  horror. “OH NO! Here we go again.”
 
The water slid over and up, slipped over the top of the cup and slowly slithered down the side in multiple streams of liquid. It wasn’t bad. The desk top was cleared so it didn’t touch anything except the wood. It didn’t rank as an El Klutzo, but maybe a  semi-El Klutzo.
 
Regardless, it registered to me that there is a learning curve in life. We can imprint messages into our brain and actions to improve, get better, reduce mistakes in the future.

The only problem is the carnage from original El Klutzo events. And, really, even those aren’t that bad. You just get upset with yourself for being such a klutz. The coffee can be cleaned up, the papers and pens and other items wiped down.
 
It’s not so bad for a little life lesson, to make you think about how you approach things and change your behavior ever-so-slightly. Perfect is not out there. But modest improvement certainly is.