CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Apparently this is no longer just a column. It's a support group for klutzes.

"I identify with your clumsiness 100 percent," wrote withhold-name-if-you-use-this-in-the-paper. Although she had fallen backward off her porch, she somehow ended up needing stitches in her chin.

"How I managed to hit my chin when falling backward is still a mystery," she wrote.

After detailing a number of falls and the aftermath, she wrote that she could especially relate to last week's Yo Mama joke about falling out of bed and missing the floor.

When Nameless took a nap that ended up being much longer than planned, she awakened with such a start that when she hurried to climb out of bed, her feet began sliding across the floor. Where her small dog was sleeping.

"When I realized I was going to fall, I began yelling at my miniature pinscher to move," she wrote. "The little fellow was between my knees, looking up at me like I was King Kong falling off the Empire State Building."

Luckily, the two fared better than Kong and Fay Wray.

She said a cousin doing genealogy research discovered the family's original name in German means "the clumsy one." She's simply living up to the name.

Another reader, Debra Shafer-Snodgrass, writes that she's been a klutz all her life, and has the stories to prove it.

As a child playing tag, she ran full speed into a clothesline, knocking herself out. As a teenage carhop at Shoney's, she was moved from waiting on cars because she kept tripping and dropping trays of food on the ground.

"Mr. Schoenbaum thought I'd be better suited doing kitchen work," Debra writes.

Little did he know she was as skilled at tripping indoors as out.

Her grandparents used to assure her folks that she'd grow out of it, but Debra's now 55 and says she's still clumsy as ever.

"I'm not permitted on ladders, tables, stools, etc., unless there's someone around to stand guard," writes Debra, whose family likes to tease that God made her short so she wouldn't have as far to fall.

Debra's grandson, Damon, who is now 9, once drew her attention by pointing excitedly at the ground.

"Maw Maw!" Damon said. "There's an ant on the floor!"

"So?" said Debra. "Why are you telling me?"

"So you don't trip over it," said Damon.

My own daughter has become somewhat accustomed to my falls. Just a few days after my fall from the desk, Celeste heard a familiar thud come from my office, so she went to investigate. She arrived in time to find me brushing sawdust from my clothes and assessing whether there was fresh damage to limbs.

She stood quietly watching me for a few seconds, and then said, "It would've been ironic if your parents had named you Grace."

Finally, to answer another reader's question -- yes, my most recent injury was to the same arm as the infamous Christmas Elbow. (While putting some finishing touches on a homemade Christmas present, I fell and dislocated my elbow, transforming my thrifty gift idea into the most expensive gift I've ever given.)

Writes the sarcastic reader, "Why don't you write a book about falling? I'm sure it would be no problem to devote a chapter to each incident. A little embellishment never hurts a good story, although for some reason, in your case, I doubt it's necessary. What I don't recommend is further research."

Reach Karin Fuller at karinful...@gmail.com.