There are times I make Dick Van Dyke look like a ballet dancer.

That has been especially true this week.

It started in a group exercise class. Nicole, the instructor, was doing a new exercise set.

Anything for me that’s new in a group class is a challenge since I am not wearing my glasses. Anyone who takes a glance through my glasses - they’re tri-focals - gets an instant headache. My eyes are that bad but then again if I ever need to start a fire in the wilderness I’m home free.

I was trying to watch what she was doing while duplicating the moves. As I tried to do a martial-arts style movement in front of my face, I managed to slam a finger into my forehead. I was soon dripping blood along with sweat. Lucky for me it wasn’t one of the moves that involved 12-pound weights although it would have knocked some sense into me.

No problem. I put a towel to it, got a band-aid, and was back in class.

That wasn’t the end of it. Tuesday is the day I try to kill myself off by doing two classes back-to-back.  In Wendy’s class about 40 minutes later I lost my footing on the step - actually the first time for me - and went down with the back of my head hitting the mirror.

Fortunately I didn’t pick up seven years bad luck in the process although I did get my own version of a knowledge bump.

Then to top it off on the way home I tripped on a rise in the sidewalk on Yosemite Avenue while jogging.

Unfortunately, the bump on my head didn’t give me lasting knowledge of how not to hurt myself.

Saturday I decided I was going to try to outdo Cruella. She’s one of my two Dalmatians. The other, naturally, is named DeVille.

Cruella goes bonkers jumping up and down within three seconds of whenever I step outside. Once in awhile she’ll jump on you but she barely makes contact. Most of the time she just goes up and down just like a Pogo stick.

For whatever reason I climbed upon one of my patio chairs and was going to jump up and down. I forget that it was one of those chairs that bounce a bit as they do not have two back legs.

Within a few seconds I was starting to lose my footing. I stumbled over backwards, knocked over the matching metal table, slammed into another chair and went down in slow motion with all the grace of  a sack of potatoes hitting the concrete.

Cruella loved it. Her tail wagging went into hyper drive while she set a new world record for canine vertical jumps. Meanwhile, DeVille moseyed over and started licking my face.

As I enjoyed new pain while getting up, I had a new appreciation of the saying “act your age.”

It was not nearly as bad as the time I got locked in a bathroom with no one at home, went out the window only in briefs and ended up getting them caught on the crank handle. That’s when I ended up ripping the briefs off as I fell into lantanas before rolling over on to a concrete sidewalk. I finished it up by jumping to my feet screaming just as two nuns from St. Joseph’s Catholic Church walked by.

Come to think of it, at times I make Dick Van Dyke look like a comic straight man.