Guilty until proven otherwise?

If you were to look at the various surfaces in our kitchen, you would swear that every day I lapse into a trance of some kind and whirl myself around the room with a full cup of coffee.  I drink one or two cups of coffee at the most, always in a tall glass, never taking time to purposely throw bits of it in any direction yet every day I'm faced with sweet-smelling, creamy particles of every shape dripping or coagulating on the doors and counters.

I am a patient person.  I am, according to Dave, compulsive about getting things into the dishwasher immediately after their use.  I am, normally, the kind of neat person who has horrendous junk drawers.  I am not a despoiler-by-coffee.

I have to admit to being someone who, while vigorously brushing her teeth, leaves a fine white (or blue) bubbly, reasonably artistic pattern on the bathroom mirror.  I have been known to spray hair products somewhat lavishly; to forget to squeegee the shower on occasion.  I am not a secret coffee-spritzer.    

You think I doth protest too much?