Let me shed a little more light on the title. I own a coffee maker. It is poorly designed and generally incompetent. It frequently releases hot coffee into any localised area other than the one it should be concentrating on, namely the coffee pot. To engage it, I remove the remnants of the previous batch, scrape away any grounds that refuse to leave, add new coffee and fill with water. However, the port into which one adds the water is small and awkwardly located near to a hinge and adjacent to a flap, making pouring difficult. So there I was, fixed into the ridiculous angle I have to adopt in order to successfully complete this task when I was surprised by an object hovering close to my face, just at the boundaries of my line of vision. I was startled, released a small yelp and split water liberally around the room. It was then I realised what it was that had snuck in so closely to my head.
It was my own arm.
My stance had left my pouring arm at quite an unusual angle and its unnatural position had startled me. My own arm. One of my limbs which, lets face it, I should be fully in control of and accountable for, had crept up and unnerved me.
Similar to being scared by your own shadow, you may reflect. No, I have to disagree, it is far more pathetic. Once the mopping had begun, I started to consider this debacle and decided it was the perfect example of the daily indignities I am forced to suffer. I know of no one else who attracts the kind of sweeping humiliations that fate deems it necessary to spew in my face.
I will now log these lapses in dignity for all to witness. Perhaps some kind of pattern will emerge.