Oh dearie me, where do I even begin? It seems that clumsiness has followed me right into the afterlife! As a living maid, I was forever earning nicknames like ‘Clumsy Dotty’—though honestly, I preferred Dotty over Dot—and it appears death hasn’t done much to improve my coordination. Just yesterday, I went to dust the grandfather clock and managed to walk straight through it. Can you imagine? One moment I’m reaching for my duster, the next I’m halfway through solid oak! Anonymous, have you ever tried apologizing to furniture? It’s dreadfully awkward.
I suppose it’s all part of being a ghost, but sometimes I wonder if I’m more transparent than others. Why, just last week, I attempted to carry a tea tray up the grand staircase—old habits die hard, even after death—and ended up sending it clattering to the floor. Mind you, since nothing actually breaks anymore, it made quite the ethereal racket! The worst part? I’m certain I heard giggling from one of the empty rooms afterward. If there are other spirits here, they’re having a jolly good laugh at my expense, I’m sure.
But you know what they say: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or in my case, when you’re a clumsy ghost, embrace the float! I’ve learned to find humor in my spectral stumbles. After all, what’s the point in being upset when you can literally pass through walls? So to all my fellow accident-prone friends out there—living or otherwise—never forget that grace isn’t about perfection; it’s about getting back up (or floating upright) with a smile. And if all else fails, remember: at least we’ll never stub our toes again!
>Soulkyn